


We Reach Our Apogee Slowly

by kowaiyoukai



Series: We Reach Our Apogee Slowly [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Coming Out, Grief/Mourning, I have no idea how to tag it all, I'm just gonna go ahead and call it gay, M/M, Military, there's really too much in this fic, this was supposed to be short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-05-26
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:01:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 97,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kowaiyoukai/pseuds/kowaiyoukai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim quickly figures out he has to break the rules if he’s going to survive on the Enterprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a one-shot, but lo and behold, over 20,000 words later I'm still working on this, so yeah. Here's Part 1 of my Kirk/Spock epic. I'm definitely one of those people who never thought they'd be into Star Trek, but I loved the movie so yeah, forget that. I've never seen TOS (well, I've probably stumbled across a few random episodes like everyone, but you know), so this is strictly STXI. Also, just FYI, I didn't include anything outside of that movie—so the characters I've stumbled across in other fics who seem important (Gary, T'Pring, Sam) just didn't make the cut here. I feel awkward writing characters I've never actually seen in fanfic. Srsly. A way longer AN will be posted at the end of the entire fic and will include my rambling excuses for this travesty. :P

When Jim thought of the alternate timeline (which he didn't, mostly, because what was there to think about, it just didn't exist and that was the end of it), he imagined a world where his father hadn't been killed. In this world, he could see himself growing up with two loving parents, or at least two parents who got along and cared about him, and then he saw all of the direct consequences of that—he'd be more moral, probably, since his father would have taught him from a young age to do things like be polite and avoid confrontations and treat women with respect, and he'd understand that sometimes a man needed to think things through carefully before making a decision. He would have had an example to live up to, someone to please, someone to disappoint. He would have had someone there to encourage him, to sit in the audience at his sports games, to help him with his physics homework, to explain to him how to read a woman when she turned away and when she didn't. He imagined family dinners, part-time jobs, learning to drive—all the aspects of small-town life that he'd lived through, but this time there was an older man there, one who had presence and charisma and knew when to shout and when to smile.

There really was no point in thinking about it, but when he did, Jim wondered which timeline was right. He had only ever lived _his_ life, had only ever known the distance that came with an overworked mother and a frustrated step-father. The possibility of another life danced around behind his eyes, not often but when it appeared it burned his retina and stayed there like afterimages for days. He didn't know what he wanted to be different. Any one thing could be changed and ignite a trillion other changes, and he couldn't be sure what was best. He didn't know who he could be.

Were things better, in that other timeline? Was he a kinder person? Wiser, stronger, able to do everything and do it all impressively? Or was he cruel? Careless, manipulative, quick to anger and quick to judge? There would never be a way to know for sure. He had no connection to his other self besides Ambassador Spock, and that was one connection he would rather not use.

So Jim let himself think about it, sometimes, when it was so late it was early and everyone assumed he was either sleeping or fucking or planning or doing whatever it was captains did in their quarters at night. He liked to keep up that air of mystery; he considered it a part of his job. And when his whole crew wondered what he did, Jim was right alongside them, imagining himself as a mythical figure, imagining a life he had not yet lived and would never live. Everyone on the Enterprise had their own idea about who Captain James T. Kirk was, even Jim.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The ‘no fraternizing with the crew' rule lasted about two days into the Enterprise's first voyage with Kirk as Captain. When Jim walked onto the bridge after he was made Captain officially and hadn't simply conned his way into the position, he knew he was destined for great things. At the end of his first day, he thought he'd become a slobbering raving lunatic if he wasn't able to unwind with the rest of the ship. Half-way through the second day he was planning a game of poker with McCoy, Sulu, Scotty, and Chekov. That was how, just after dinner on the second night of the Enterprise's first mission, Jim found himself sitting in a recreation room, holding a losing hand and working his charm.

"You can't fold yet," Chekov said in his thick, nearly impossible to understand accent. "We've barely started!"

"No, I know he's up to something," Scotty replied, pointing a finger vigorously at Jim. "And I'm not losing all my money this easy."

"Up to something?" Jim said, grinning. He stretched backwards in his seat lazily, cocking an eyebrow at the suspicious tone in Scotty's voice. "I'm just trying to play the game."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Don't be a damn idiot." He shook his head and looked at Scotty. "Jim's bluffing. He's got nothing."

Scotty glanced quickly between the two of them. "You don't know that. Do you? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Bones, are you _sure_?" Jim asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, studying McCoy intently.

"Can we get on with the game?" Sulu asked. He'd been quiet up to this point, which let Jim know that he either had an incredibly good or horrible hand. No one stayed that quiet during poker unless they were hiding something.

"If you're going to fold, do it already," McCoy said. "Just do _something_ , dammit."

Jim stared at Chekov until he folded, feeling unaccountably lucky. This was a new group of people to play with, aside from Bones, and chances were good he could make some money before they caught on to his tricks. Now that Scotty had folded, Jim only had to intimidate Chekov and Sulu. He'd deal with Bones at the end.

Or so he thought. Turned out Bones had a set of three nines, which beat Jim's two threes by, oh, a shitload. After a few more rounds, and several bouts of name-calling and rude suggestions about the legitimacy of the birth of whoever had just won, everyone headed back to their quarters. Jim had every intention of doing the same, but as Captain he knew he had to check on the bridge first, just to make sure things were in order. He trusted his crew to keep everything running, but even on his second day Jim realized he liked overseeing tasks personally. It was the only way he could be sure they would get done the way he wanted them to.

Besides, it _was_ kind of awesome watching all the crew suddenly look shocked and stand at attention when he randomly popped onto the bridge at two in the morning.

So Jim made his way to the bridge, and the few people he passed on the way saluted him even though he was out of uniform. Jeans and a t-shirt were comfortable and completely not regulation, but for some reason he was never able to go incognito. Jim thought it would be a few weeks, at least, before everyone recognized him out of uniform. It was depressing to think he'd made such an impression in two days. On the other hand, maybe they all knew him because of his amazing and superb skills as a captain. Then he passed a crewman who saw him and didn't respond at all, and Jim was thankful and annoyed and decided he needed to stop thinking so much.

"Good work," he said and patted the man on the back briefly before continuing towards his destination. The man looked confused and slightly put off but he nodded anyway. Jim was going to be the best captain Starfleet had ever had if it killed him, and that meant moral support for the crew even when they didn't know who the heck he was.

When Jim reached the bridge, he took one step out of the lift and then stopped abruptly. Spock was in the Captain's chair, head bowed as he read through a stack of paperwork that Jim was sure could wait until the morning. The rest of the crew were at their stations, but they were relaxed, cheerful and speaking to each other across the bridge as they worked.

"Spock," Jim said, moving forward with the stride his long legs and confidence gave him. The crew immediately stood up and saluted him, but Jim made a dismissive motion and they relaxed, sitting down but making no attempt to restart their conversation.

"Captain," Spock answered, not looking up from the report. "Is there a problem?"

"Yeah, there's a problem," Jim said. "Actually, I can think of several problems right now."

Spock looked up towards Jim and raised an eyebrow. "Please enlighten me."

"I can tell when you're humoring me," Jim said. "And I don't like it."

"Is that one of the problems you wish to bring to my attention?" Spock asked. He lowered his eyebrow and maintained his blank expression, but Jim was sure if Spock had been human he would have been smirking.

"No. Just a comment," Jim replied. "My problems are that, one, I'm not asleep yet. Two, you're not asleep yet. And three, you run a pretty laid back bridge, considering how uptight you are."

"If I may address the problems in order, I believe I can assist you in all of them," Spock said. His tone was so matter-of-fact that Jim couldn't help but grin.

"Oh, please do," Jim said. "I love a good excuse." He waved a hand at Spock, gesturing for him to continue.

"The first problem is due to your schedule. If you would allot more of your free time to sleeping and less to fraternizing with the crew, I believe you would already be asleep at this time of night. The second problem is due to my schedule. However, if you check the logs you will find that I am scheduled for three night shifts a week. Therefore, my presence here is not only acceptable but also mandatory. The third problem is due to the way I have observed you prefer to run this ship. I believe you prefer the crew members to function socially and perform their duties at the same time. You appear to believe this creates happiness and camaraderie among the crew which enables them to work quickly and effectively. Suffice to say, I have not seen evidence to the contrary. As you are the captain, I will abide by your wishes in this matter."

By the time Spock had finished his speech, the entire crew of the bridge was staring at him. Spock had spoken in such an even tone and with such logic, even at two in the morning, that Jim couldn't help but feel comforted. No matter what else happened, Spock would never change.

"You didn't explain why you're so uptight," Jim said.

"I am merely controlling my emotions, which is something you might be wise to consider attempting," Spock replied.

"We can't have that, now can we?" Jim grinned and sat on the arm of the Captain's chair, forcing Spock to move his paperwork. "If both of us controlled our emotions like you do, we would bore the crew to death."

"It is impossible for a human being to die from boredom," Spock replied.

"You don't know that for sure," Jim said.

"Yes. I do."

"Also, you're in my chair," Jim said.

"As I am scheduled for duty at this time and you are officially off-duty, and as the chair is meant to be used by the highest ranking commanding officer on the bridge, this chair currently is mine," Spock said.

"See, now that sounds like an excuse to me," Jim said, waving a hand in front of Spock. "I don't know, it just doesn't seem right."

"How so?"

"I'm the captain, in or out of uniform, right?"

"That is correct."

Jim nodded a bit and raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. "So then it's my chair all the time. Even when I'm not on duty or in uniform. It's the Captain's chair. I'm the Captain. So it's my chair. That's logic for you."

Spock tilted his head towards Jim in a regal manner. "Your logic is sound. Would you like me to move?"

"Nah," Jim said, shaking his head. "I just wanted you to admit that I'm right."

"I see," Spock said in a tone that implied he didn't understand at all.

"Now we both know it's my chair and I get the final say in who sits in it," Jim said. He stood up abruptly. "You can sit in it when I'm not around."

"Thank you," Spock said, so dryly Jim thought he might choke on his own sarcasm. "That is a generous offer."

"What can I say? I'm a generous guy," Jim said. "And now I'm off to sleep."

"Good night, Captain," Spock said, inclining his head once more.

"Night, Spock," Jim replied. "Don't let the crew have too much fun."

"I will control their exuberance to the best of my ability."

Jim walked to the lift and shook his head, letting out one loud laugh before the doors closed. "I'm sure you will."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was good to work the night shift sometimes. Spock knew his presence not only encouraged the officers to perform well, but it also reminded them that their superiors had not forgotten they existed. In his time at Starfleet, Spock had the misfortune of hearing several complaints that the night crews' efforts went unappreciated. He had no intention of allowing any of his crew to feel as though their presence was anything less than vitally important.

Technically, the crew of the Enterprise were not "his" crew, but Spock believed they did belong to him, in a way. He had briefly been the Captain and was now the First Officer, and barring any unforeseen events Spock intended to stay with the Enterprise for as long as he could. Given his current situation, it was the best and most logical option. Spock knew Captain Kirk would have a comment to make about any claim Spock made about this thought, and so he kept it to himself.

Still, he did feel a sense of obligation to assist the ship in any way he could. The occasional night shift was simply one way of fulfilling that obligation. This night in particular he was off. Three nights ago, the Captain had visited him during his night shift and caused a minor commotion on the bridge. Spock was getting used to the commotions Captain Kirk caused wherever he went. He only hoped he wouldn't get so used to them that they ceased to matter.

He was walking back to his quarters after sharing dinner with Uhura, who was walking alongside him, chatting amiably about something Spock had long since lost track of. It was not his intention to be rude, however she had invited herself along without asking him and currently all Spock wanted to do was be alone.

When they arrived at his quarters, Spock put out a hand to block Uhura's entry. She stopped speaking and looked at him, eyes asking a question she didn't seem able to vocalize.

"I apologize, but I would like to spend this evening alone," Spock said.

Uhura paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "We haven't spent time together since the mission started," she said, quietly. "I thought it'd be nice for us to talk for a while."

"Perhaps another time," Spock replied.

"All right," she said after a moment. "Let me know when you're feeling up to it."

Spock went into his quarters, leaving Uhura standing outside them, watching him as the door slid shut between them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Spock thought of the alternate timeline (which he did, often, because he had met his other self and the knowledge that could be gained was impossible and vast), he imagined a world where his mother hadn't been killed. It wasn't much different from the one he currently lived in. He had rarely seen his mother since joining Starfleet, and knowing he would never see her again was the equivalent of knowing he would miss his yearly visit to Vulcan. Then he remembered (not that he ever forgot, but at that point the memory was forced onto him) about his planet and his race, and the knowledge of his mother's death suddenly seemed pale and insignificant to one half of him, while to the other it remained everything.

Spock disliked splitting himself in two like that. Classifying one half of him as human and emotional and the other half as Vulcan and logical seemed innately wrong to him. He was one being that contained conflicting opinions, but then again most beings he had encountered contained conflicting opinions, even those who were fully one race. Humans were known for their inner conflicts, but even Vulcans had moments of doubt and lengthy internal arguments to determine which course of action would bring about the desired result. Emotion was praised in one of his cultures and rejected in the other, but that did not mean Spock had to choose one of those paths. He could navigate between them, arrange himself where he thought was best, and if he was able to reap the benefit of both human emotion and Vulcan logic, all the better.

Still, there were times when Spock felt that division rise to the surface, separating his mind so quickly and completely that it was impossible to avoid. His mother had been killed. His planet had been destroyed. His race was near extinction. He felt overwhelming grief, despair, loneliness, and anger. He knew there were plans to be made for his mother's funeral, New Vulcan, and how to deal with whoever remained. He felt as though his world had ended and somehow he had survived, surrounded by people who could never truly understand him. He knew he had a job to perform and that there was nothing he could have done about any of the recent disasters.

In the alternate timeline, those disasters never happened. In that reality, everything in Spock's life was still stable. So Spock often thought of that world because he did not know how to come to terms with the one he now lived in. If the choice was between a reality where he had everything and one where he had nothing, both emotion and logic arrived at the same conclusion.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Just over a week into his shiny new Captaincy, Jim realized he had certain unexpected responsibilities as Captain. He was expected to interfere in some matters and stay out of others. Usually, the difference between the two was clear, but when he saw Uhura walk swiftly away from Spock's quarters with obvious anger and sadness in her movements, Jim was torn. On the one hand, as Captain he should stay out of the personal lives of his crew. That wasn't exactly protocol, since technically speaking romances among members of the same crew were forbidden even though no one had paid any attention to that rule for over a hundred years. Still, Jim instinctively felt it was the right thing to do, allowing the crew's personal lives to stay, well, personal. On the other hand, his First Officer was someone he worked with continuously, and if he had a problem it could potentially affect the running of the ship. So that might mean Jim was expected to deal with it.

After less than five seconds, Jim found he was already walking towards Spock's quarters. In the end, what mattered the most was that Spock was his friend, or they were starting to be friends, or they would already _be_ friends if Spock wasn't so insistent on being so Vulcan and logical all the time, and that meant Jim knew he had to see what was going on. He was there for his friends, and semi-friends, when they needed him.

Jim knocked on Spock's door, fully intending on tracking down a security passcode to get in if he had to. The door opened before Jim could knock a second time. Spock stood there, looking calm as he always did, but something about the set of his shoulders and the slant of his eyebrows had Jim immediately worried.

"Hey," Jim said. "Mind if I come in?"

Spock moved to the side to let him pass. Jim walked into Spock's quarters, the first time he had ever done so, and was immediately assaulted by a wave of heat. He stopped in mid-motion and looked pointedly at Spock, who reached to a keypad near the door and tapped three keys. The temperature immediately dropped to the standard ship settings.

"Thanks," Jim said. "Man, you like to keep it hot in here. Is that a Vulcan thing?"

"Yes," Spock replied. He walked away from the door and sat on the edge of his bed, gesturing for Jim to sit in the one chair the room had. "My body temperature is higher than yours."

"Oh. Good to know," Jim said. He turned the chair around and sat in it backwards, facing Spock who was sitting on the bed looking him expectantly. "So."

"You have something you wish to speak to me about," Spock said.

"Kind of, yeah," Jim replied. "It's more like I think you might have something you'd like to talk about, actually."

Spock waited a moment before replying. "I am not sure I understand what you came here for."

Jim hesitated. He didn't want to push Spock into something he wasn't ready for. Maybe whatever was bothering him wasn't that bad, or maybe it was none of Jim's business, or maybe they just weren't close enough yet that Spock felt like he could confide in him. It was impossible to tell what was going on, but Jim hadn't forgotten any of the recent events, and he planned on covering most of them.

"Look, I know we're not exactly friends yet," Jim started. He swallowed and suddenly realized he was a lot more nervous about this conversation than he thought he'd be. "But there's a few things I've been meaning to tell you, and I figure maybe once I say them, you'll feel comfortable enough to talk to me, too." Spock remained silent, which Jim took as a sign to keep going. He breathed in deeply and then plunged right in. "I'm sorry for what I said on the bridge, when you were still Captain." Jim waited for a response from Spock, but the man was sitting there looking at him without moving. "It was cruel and I felt like an asshole when I was doing it, but I know it needed to get done anyway. I shouldn't have insulted you like that."

Spock seemed to sit up a little straighter. "Apology accepted. I understood the reason for your behavior shortly after the fact and required no explanation."

"Yeah, well, it was still shitty to say it," Jim replied. "And there's something else." Jim looked Spock directly in the eyes and waited to speak until Spock returned the look. "I'm sorry for your losses." Jim tried to convey his sorrow and honesty through the look, but Spock broke it off and gazed at a spot over Jim's shoulder. "I know there's nothing I can say to make it better for you. I know I don't understand what you're going through. But I am sorry it happened."

The silence between them stretched until it was wire-thin. Jim wanted to break it, to say something else, but he knew he had to remain quiet until Spock gave an indication of how he wanted the conversation to progress. He hadn't come here to burn bridges, after all. He'd come here to mend them.

Eventually, Spock bowed his head. "My older self advised me to do what feels right," he said. Jim waited for the connection, hoping he wouldn't have to make some kind of huge leap in logic. "However, I cannot feel anything right now past the pain of losing so much in so short a time."

Jim stilled, feeling like he was balancing on a precarious edge. "It's okay to feel pain," he said. "When you've lost that much, everyone feels pain. It's only natural."

"It is not natural for me," Spock said, voice rising. Jim straightened in his chair, realizing he was about to get an emotional outburst from the same Vulcan who had strangled him the last time he was upset. "I am not used to dealing with a large amount of emotional disturbance. A Vulcan being overcome by emotion is unheard of."

"It happens to humans all the time," Jim said. "And you're half-human. So it's okay for you to freak out once in a while, especially over something like this." Jim kept his voice calm, wanting to avoid an argument. "No one will blame you for being upset."

" _I_ will blame myself," Spock replied, voice so loud he was almost shouting. He stood up and began pacing in front of his bed, a sure sign of his anger since Jim could never remember seeing Spock do any unnecessary movements before. "The human part of me is what I wish to ignore. It does not assist me in performing my duties or in controlling my emotions. It has no purpose other than to confuse me and incite me to perform embarrassing emotional displays."

Jim bit his lower lip, wondering what the right response was. He knew Spock didn't think that way, not really. But when he was hurting so much, maybe he did believe the side of him that felt the most was a bad thing.

"You've dealt with your emotions before," Jim said, slowly. "And you can control them better than anyone else I know. If you were anyone else, you'd have quit Starfleet and had a mental breakdown in some cave somewhere. I think you're showing a lot of emotional restraint, actually."

"It might seem that way to a human," Spock said. "To a Vulcan, my behavior is a disgrace."

"All right, that's enough," Jim said, getting to his feet and striding across the room before Spock could say anything else. He stepped into Spock's path, forcing him to stop and look at Jim. "You're not a disgrace. You hear me? You're a credit to the uniform and _both_ your races."

"Again, you are a human. Of course it appears that way to you," Spock replied.

"Yeah, I'm human, you caught me," Jim said, throwing his hands up. "But you know what? It's not a bad thing. You know that as much as I do, you're just too upset to think clearly about it."

"I am not upse—"

"Yes, you are!" Jim shouted, interrupting him. "Of course you are! You just lost your people, your planet, your _mother_! You can't tell me you're not upset, okay?! I _know_ you're upset!"

"Do not tell me what I lost!" Spock shouted, face twisting in fury. "I will not allow you to lecture me on this matter!"

"I'm not lecturing you!" Jim grabbed Spock's shoulders and held him tightly, hoping he could knock some sense into his First Officer before they had another round of fighting. "I'm just telling you that it's okay! You can be angry or sad or whatever you are! It's all right to feel!"

Spock seethed for almost a minute before he responded. "I know that," he said through grit teeth. "Even if it was not acceptable, there is nothing I can do about how I feel."

"How do you feel?" Jim asked, letting his grip loosen. "Tell me, I'll listen."

Spock swallowed. "I feel empty," he said. All of his anger seemed to disappear, and his shoulders slumped as he shook his head and closed his eyes. "I feel as though what I have lost will never be replaced."

Jim decided to be honest. "It won't," he said. "You're never going to replace any of it."

Spock opened his eyes to stare at Jim. "Then how will I survive?"

"You'll get through it," Jim replied. "Let yourself grieve. Get angry when you need to. Cry when you need to. After some time, the pain will fade. You'll be able to move on, to live your life."

"Is that what happened for you?" Spock asked. Jim looked at him blankly. "Your father died when you were a child."

"Oh," Jim said. He paused and then shrugged, letting his hands fall from Spock's shoulders. "Yeah, it was different for me. I was too young to remember him, so I never really had to mourn him."

"I see," Spock replied. He titled his head and gave Jim a considering look. "I feel slightly better than I did before I spoke to you."

The corner of Jim's mouth lifted in a half-smile. "That's good. I'm glad."

"Perhaps speaking about my feelings is a good idea," Spock continued.

"I told you," Jim said. "And shouting at someone is always great stress relief."

"Indeed," Spock said. "Lieutenant Uhura attempted to convince me to speak with her. Perhaps I should have done so."

Jim took a second to imagine the idea of Spock shouting in Uhura's face. He grimaced. "You know, if you're going to be yelling, I think you'd be better off not dragging her into it. But for just talking, that's a good idea."

"I have spoken to Lieutenant Uhura in the past about this matter," Spock said. "However, I have never achieved the level of satisfaction I currently feel."

"It's the shouting," Jim said, pushing down the pleasure he felt from Spock's unintentional gratitude. "I'm telling you, shouting is great."

"Perhaps," Spock said. "Thank you for speaking with me."

"No problem," Jim said, and now he let himself feel pleased. A grin spread across his face and he figured it was all right to show it. "Any time. I mean it."

Spock nodded. "I will remember."

There was a few seconds of comfortable silence before Jim cleared his throat and said, "I guess I'll get going, now that you feel better and all."

"Yes," Spock agreed. "I will see you tomorrow." Jim walked towards the door, but right before it opened Spock said, "Captain."

Jim turned around. "Yeah?"

"You are mistaken," Spock said. Jim was about to ask what exactly Spock was talking about when he continued. "I have considered us friends since we beamed aboard Nero's ship together."

Jim's grin lit up the room, threatening to split his face in half. "My friends call me Jim," he replied.

"I will see you tomorrow, Jim," Spock said.

Jim gave him a half-hearted two-fingered salute before leaving, grin still plastered all over his face.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Spock saw Uhura the next morning before he had even been to the bridge, he took her aside and attempted to make his feelings about their relationship known. She was so forceful on the matter that he had never been able to get his point across before, but for some reason after his conversation with Captain Kirk, or rather Jim as he had asked to be called, Spock felt more assured that he would be able to speak to her without getting side-tracked.

"Lieutenant Uhura, I believe it is not in either of our best interests to continue our current relationship," Spock said.

Uhura stared at him for a moment before asking, "Why do you say that?"

"I am currently not in an acceptable emotional state to develop the type of relationship you wish to have with me," Spock explained. "I believe it would be unfair to both of us to continue our arrangement."

Uhura nodded once, thoughtfully. "I understand what you're saying," she replied. "But I think you've overlooked something important."

Spock had known that Uhura would argue with him using logic. It was one of her traits that he found most admirable. However, it was also the reason he knew it would be difficult for her to understand his emotions. She was used to dealing with him in logical terms. Anything else was still foreign ground for them.

"Please explain," Spock said.

"Well, first and most importantly, it's at the times when we're feeling the worst that it's most important to have people around who care about us," Uhura said. "I agree that you're not in the best state to develop our relationship right now, but that doesn't mean we have to break up. We can just stay the way we are until you're able to move forward."

"It seems unfair for me to force you to wait until I am in better control of my emotions," Spock replied. "This is especially true since I am unsure how long this process will take."

"I don't mind waiting," she said. "Also, we've only been together for just under two weeks. That's not nearly enough time for either of us to come to any conclusions about how we feel about each other. And it doesn't make any sense for us to break up only for you to realize later that you actually do want to be with me."

Spock hesitated. It wasn't in his best interests to agree with her, but she did have a point that he had to concede. He might not be thinking clearly right now, and two weeks did seem like an unreasonably short amount of time to come to any conclusions on how he felt about Uhura.

"You appear to be right," Spock said. "Two weeks is too short a period of time to determine our feelings. It would be unwise to come to a decision at this juncture."

Uhura gave him an appraising look. "I do know that you're going through a tough time right now," she said. "I'm not expecting anything from you. I just want to be here in case you need me."

"I understand," Spock said. "However, perhaps we should set an amount of time after which it would be reasonable to make a decision about our relationship. I cannot guarantee I will be behaving normally at that point, yet I believe allowing this to continue indefinitely would be foolish."

Uhura nodded. "All right, then. Six months."

Spock waited a beat before responding. "That seems unreasonably long to me."

"Well, it's long enough that we'll both be sure," she replied. "If you take into account how you're feeling now and the amount of time you'll need to try to recover, then the actual amount of time we'll have to figure things out will be a lot shorter."

"That sounds logical," Spock said. "However I still believe the better option would be for us to end our relationship now while I recover. Then we will be able to return to our arrangement afterwards, if both of us agree that is what we wish."

"Like I said before, now's the time when you need people who care about you the most," Uhura said. "I won't abandon you now, of all times."

Spock nodded once, unable to say anything more. He could not say that the comfort she wished to provide had already been given to him by another, nor could he say that he did not believe her decision to start their relationship so soon after his mother's death was irresponsible, perhaps even selfish. So Spock left her and made his way towards the bridge, prepared to continue his work for the day.

On the way there, Spock saw Jim walking towards him. They stopped next to each other intuitively, and Spock was immediately pleased to see him.

"Good morning, Jim," Spock said.

"Morning," Jim replied. "Hey, what's going on? You weren't on the bridge when I got there. You're always there before me. Did you sleep late or something?"

"I was speaking to Lieutenant Uhura," Spock answered. "We had a disagreement."

Jim grimaced. "That doesn't sound good."

"Indeed, no."

"What happened?"

Jim began walking towards the bridge, slowly, and Spock walked alongside him. They fell into step easily, as if they had years of practice walking together. Spock was struck by how much more comfortable he felt at Jim's side than at Uhura's. This was a classic example of the difference between a friendship and a romantic entanglement. Friendships could be relaxed and uncomplicated. Romances would always be difficult.

"I believe I may not be suitable for a romantic relationship at the present time, given my current emotional distress. Lieutenant Uhura believes otherwise," Spock explained.

"Wait. You broke up with her?" Jim asked.

"No, although I do believe that is the best course of action at this time," Spock replied.

"I don't get it." Jim glanced over at Spock, who looked back at him with a neutral expression. "She wouldn't let you break up with her? Is _that_ what happened?"

"Lieutenant Uhura provided me with several logical reasons why it might be wiser to allow our relationship to continue," Spock said. He wasn't entirely certain that he should be speaking about this with Jim, but it was a human tradition to discuss personal matters with friends. Since he would be living among humans, Spock needed to get used to their traditions. "She stated that I might be unable to make the correct decision regarding our relationship due to my emotional unease. She also stated that humans need companionship during difficult transitional periods and so she believes ending our relationship at the present time would be a morally inappropriate action."

"Okay," Jim said after a moment. "I get all that. But I'm surprised that's why you agreed to stay with her."

"How so?" Spock asked.

"Relationships are all about feelings, not logic," Jim said. "If you feel like you shouldn't be with her, then you probably shouldn't." Jim shrugged. "Logic doesn't really work in these kinds of situations."

"Fascinating," Spock said.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Seriously? You're so weird."

"Lieutenant Uhura and I have agreed on a trial period of six months to determine our feelings for each other," Spock continued, ignoring Jim's statement entirely.

"Six months?" Jim repeated. "That's a long time to stay with someone you're not sure about."

"Yes. However, it was the Lieutenant's request and I thought it would be fitting to honor it," Spock stated. "After all, once the six months are over we will be able to reach an agreement that both of us will willingly honor."

"Hm. You think so?" Jim asked, scratching the back of his neck idly with one hand. "Seems to me like she just conned you into staying with her longer than you want to."

"Lieutenant Uhura would not act with such dishonor and selfishness," Spock countered. "I highly doubt her reasoning was based on impure motives."

Jim laughed so loudly it echoed down the corridor. "Wow," he said. "And here I thought you knew what she was like. She's smart enough to outmaneuver you if she wanted to get her way. And guess what, Spock? All humans are dishonorable and selfish. Get used to it."

"Does that include you, Captain?"

"Of course," Jim replied, grinning. "I'm probably the most dishonorable, selfish bastard you'll ever meet."

"Is that so?"

"I'm quite proud of it," Jim continued. "It's hard to be this gorgeous and successful _and_ have a stunning personality. If being selfish is my only flaw, well, it's only reasonable I should have _one_."

Spock was silent for a few seconds. "Your flaws are becoming increasingly apparent the more time I spend in your company."

"Nah," Jim said, waving a hand towards Spock. "You're just observant. Most people don't notice I have any flaws, ever."

They reached the lift and the doors opened. Jim walked inside first, Spock following a moment later. Once inside, Spock pressed the button for the bridge and waited patiently for Jim to continue raving about his own virtues. He found he didn't mind listening to Jim, even when everything he said was illogical and a waste of time. For some reason, simply being next to Jim was soothing, and the positive effects of their interactions by far outweighed any problems Spock may have had to listening to Jim blabber uselessly on. In fact, Spock realized he didn't have any problems with listening to Jim talk, even when it was idle chatter that had no true purpose. This human version of friendship was a good thing for everyone involved. It was different enough from Vulcan friendship to stand out, since Vulcan friendships were based more on shared views of the world and less on compatibility. Not that Spock had harbored any Vulcan friendships during his time on his home world. Not that there was a home world left to create friendships on.

Silence passed for a few seconds before Jim cleared his throat. Spock looked over at him, wondering what his Captain wanted, but Jim was looking at the doors, purposefully avoiding eye contact.

"So, um, how are you feeling?" Jim asked. "Not to be annoying, but you know. I thought I should check."

"I am feeling better now than I was last night," Spock replied. "Your concern is not an annoyance."

"Oh. That's good," Jim said. "I mean, you seem better."

"It will take some time," Spock said.

"Yeah," Jim replied. "I guess it will."

The lift doors opened and they stepped onto the bridge, Jim heading for his coveted chair and Spock taking the few steps to his own station. When Lieutenant Uhura appeared minutes later, Spock realized he had not given her any thought since his conversation with Jim. He would have to work on that. For their relationship to succeed, he needed to make a conscious effort to consider her needs above his own.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't supposed to exist, but I realized I was being incredibly remiss and unfeeling and so I ended up writing it overnight. Yes, I do mean overnight (2 am to 4 pm HOLLA… this will not be a habit, hokay?). It's pretty heavy on the angst, just a heads up. I am also initiating an official tissue warning for this chapter. B/c I think it may need it. And OK, I'll edit this part of the fic for accuracy later, but for right now there's a filler age of 25 for Kirk. So, QUICK, someone tell me how old everyone's supposed to be in XI! Or at least, is there a guess that's currently accepted as fanon? They say Chekov's 17, but that's if I recall it correctly, and I know Kirk's the youngest Captain EVAR in Starfleet, so he must be early to mid twenties? Y/Y? **Edited slightly because I suck at canon.**

Authority figures tended not to get along with Jim. It wasn't that he specifically tried to be a problem. It was more that he simply was always meant to be an authority figure himself, and when two authority figures clashed it always ended badly. Jim had never been able to imagine himself in any position of power. Growing up and having to abide by his alcoholic step-father's wishes had made Jim more keen on rebelling than on toeing the line. He saw himself not really as a "break the rules" kind of guy, but more as a "they'll need to invent _new_ rules once _I'm_ done" kind of guy. He lived on the edge and loved living there, balancing between sure footing and free falling with every breath.

So he had never actually envisioned himself as Captain of a starship. Sure, Admiral Pike had challenged him to do it, but in reality Jim simply could not back down from a challenge. He hadn't put much thought into the specifics of things—how he would lead people, what he would do in all the situations the manuals warned about, how he would keep his crew and ship running together smoothly. Those things had just not crossed his mind. He had only decided to go into the program overnight, after all. One night of half-hearted thought followed by a few hours of solid sleep gave Jim the only epiphany he needed to accept Pike's offer.

There was nothing for him in Iowa, in the United States, on Earth. Nothing at all. He had no true friends, no real family, no significant other, no lingering attachments. He had lived a life of chaos—ordered at times, with school and part-time jobs, but still undoubtedly chaos. His step-father had been the stereotypical asshole—loud, rude, drunk, and heavy-handed. Jim knew he didn't want to become that, and there it was, his epiphany. He had a choice. He could either stick around being a bum and doing nothing with his life, lying about getting into bar fights and screwing anyone who would have him, or he could do something. Anything; it didn't matter what. No one had ever expected him to become anything other than a mirror of his step-father, and he would do whatever necessary to avoid that. The only chance to do better anyone had given to him in his entire life would expire the next morning. Jim wasn't about to let it go to waste.

He had sent his mother a message, short and to the point: _Joining Starfleet. Will kick ass._ There was nothing else to say, nothing else that mattered. He wasn't going to prove to her that he deserved the sacrifice his father had made. She had said that often enough, that he had to do great things to show that he deserved that life exchange he had been born into, and he had never put any stock into it. She was in mourning, would always _be_ in mourning. Jim couldn't remember a time when he saw his mother and didn't think there was a part of her that was missing. So he had left her, knowing she would notice but unsure whether she would really care. He knew she loved him, but he also knew her love was broken, fragile, and hard to find when he most needed it.

If he was going to survive and do something, if he was going to try to deserve his father's death and everything everyone expected out of him because of it, then he was going to leave. He would find a new life, people who had different expectations of him, only because he couldn't stand to live in the one he had a moment longer. Much later, when he learned that there was a different timeline out there where his life was fundamentally changed, that knowledge didn't change much. He had chosen the life he now lived above all others. A life in Iowa working at a classic automobile repair shop or a life in another timeline he couldn't envision no matter how hard he tried—what did they matter? He had fought for _this_ life, and he wasn't about to let go of it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two weeks into his voyage, and Jim still had no real clue about where they were going. Their mission was to seek out new worlds and life forms, to boldly go where no one had gone before, and Jim was fine with that, really he was. He was more than happy to boldly go lots of places, especially places that served blueberry pancakes on demand. Those were, in his professional opinion, the absolute best places to go. Boldly.

So it was a small, yet retrospectively obvious, surprise to him that an integral part of his daily routine was an early breakfast at the mess hall. Jim had never thought he would be someone who had daily rountines and early breakfasts, but it turned out being Captain was a twenty-four-seven job that required him to do lots of work when no one else was. So if he wanted blueberry pancakes with maple syrup and coffee that tasted like coffee, and he did, then he had to get up earlier than he'd ever done in the entirety of his twenty-five years of existence.

Luckily enough, it turned out that some of the crew he knew and talked to on a regular basis were also early risers, needlessly in their cases, but Jim certainly wasn't about to throw stones. He sat down next to Chekov, Sulu, and Scotty, prepared to eat and run as he always had to.

"Captain," they said almost as one. Jim found it oddly amusing to have three incredibly different voices speak at the same time that way, so he still hadn't told them they didn't actually have to salute him every time he sat with them. Technically speaking, they probably _did_ have to, but Jim liked to think breakfast was a bit too early for that kind of thing. Except when it was hysterical, which it was every time they said it in sync like that.

"There's a problem with the transporter," Scotty immediately said.

Jim paused with his fork half-way to his mouth. He narrowed his eyes at Scotty. "What have I—"

"Sorry, sorry, I'll wait," Scotty said, grimacing.

Jim took his first bite of blueberry goodness and sighed, quite content with life in general and the wonderful people who made food. "All right, now you can tell me," he said, gesturing to Scotty.

"There's a problem with the transporter," Scotty repeated.

"Yeah, you said that already. So what's the problem?" Jim asked.

"It's broke," Scotty said.

Jim waited a beat. Sulu and Chekov exchanged a look. "That's it?" Jim asked. "That's the problem? ‘It's broke'?"

"Well, there's more to it than that," Scotty explained. "But it'll just go right over your head and you'll forget about it anyway. I just figured you should know. Transporter's broke."

"So fix it," Jim said, shrugging.

"Working on that now," Scotty replied. "Hope to have it running by tomorrow."

"All right, that's fine," Jim said. "Not like we're going anywhere in the next few days anyway." He looked at Sulu. "Are we?"

"No," Sulu answered. "We're in the middle of a huge, gaping, empty space of…" He paused and then sighed. "Space."

Chekov snorted. "It's a bit too early for puns."

"There's never a good time for puns," Jim said. "Remember that. I reserve the right to fire anyone who uses a pun in my presence." Jim looked at Sulu for all of a second before he said, "You're fired."

Sulu rolled his eyes. "Sure, sir. Then you'll just fly the ship, right?"

"Chekov'll do it," Jim replied, shrugging.

"Um, no, really, I won't," Chekov said. "I don't even want to try, actually."

"Then Spock," Jim said. "I'm sure he could figure it out."

"I'm glad that's settled," Sulu said. "I'll just lounge about in the rec rooms all day then."

"Nah," Jim said. "We'll beam you to the nearest planet and leave you there."

"The transporter's broke, remember?" Scotty said. "Do you even listen when I speak? At all?"

"Honestly?" Jim asked. Scotty nodded. "Not really." Jim downed the last of his pancakes and coffee while Sulu and Chekov laughed at Scotty's well-faked outrage. "Well, it's been fun, but I'm too important to sit around and listen to you guys all day long."

Jim strode out to various degrees of protesting complaints, which he easily ignored, and made his way to the bridge. When he got there, Spock got up from the Captain's chair and stepped aside.

"Good morning, Captain," Spock said.

"Morning, Spock," Jim replied, flopping down into his chair with a self-satisfied groan. "Anything horrible happen while I was asleep?"

"Yes."

Jim's head turned so fast he thought he'd get whiplash from it. He slid down in his chair from the movement but didn't even notice. "Really?"

"No." Spock's face transformed from complete apathy to amusement in the space of a few seconds, and all it took was a slight lift in one corner of his mouth.

Jim gave him a serious look for as long as he could hold it, which was maybe two seconds, before he grinned back at his First Officer. "Shit, Spock, you scared the hell out of me."

"I am practicing humor," Spock replied. "I am learning that humor is composed mostly of lying about negative comments."

"It is?" Jim asked, righting himself and immediately crossing his legs to sit Indian-style in his chair. He loved his chair, but sometimes he wished it didn't engulf him so obviously.

"Yes," Spock said. "For instance, when Lieutenant Uhura asked if her hair looked attractive, I told her it did even though it did not. Unfortunately, she did not understand my humor and took the comment as a compliment. I decided the best course of action would be to allow her to think that."

"Good call," Jim said, grimacing. "Listen, just, you know, in the future, whenever a woman asks you how she looks, just say ‘you look gorgeous.' That's it, that's all you say. Don't say anything else besides that."

"Why?" Spock asked. "Is this a human ritual of some kind?"

"Um, sure, yeah," Jim replied. "It's a human ritual for keeping your balls attached and getting laid. Just make sure you say it."

"I do not understand," Spock said, frowning slightly.

Jim sighed. "Here, say it with me. You look gorgeous." Spock was silent. "Come on, just say it. You look gorgeous." Spock was still quiet. "Okay. It's an order. Say it."

"You look gorgeous," Spock said in a monotone.

"No, you need to sound more enthused than that," Jim said. "Just say it like you mean it." The lift opened and Chekov walked in, which Jim knew meant the others would be arriving within minutes. Jim sighed and said, "Hurry up."

"You look gorgeous," Spock said, and he even sounded like he meant it. Chekov's steps faltered and he stared blatantly at them.

Jim laughed. "See? That sounded much better."

Chekov shook his head, quickly walking to his station. "I'm losing my mind," he muttered, taking his seat and doing his best not to stare over his shoulder so obviously.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There were some days when it was difficult to get Jim alone. Spock knew it would be one of those days. The transporter was broken for the third day in a row despite Scotty's assurances that it was just a glitch, the last two planets they had stumbled across had been completely devoid of life, and Uhura had been picking up strange garbled transmissions all morning long. None of these things on their own would present a true problem, but when combined together they were just irritating and time-consuming enough that Spock knew he'd have to pull Jim aside and quickly speak with him if he wanted the preparations to be done satisfactorily.

"Captain, may I have a word?" Spock asked when they were walking back from their fifth meeting with Scotty about the broken transporter. He had assured them he had finally figured out what the problem was, and that opening one of the main water valves probably hadn't been such a great idea since said water had then spilled everywhere, including onto the engineering mainframe, wires, and control panel. Jim had given him a concise, completely irrelevant answer about filleted Scottish meat, and for some reason Spock could not decipher that had finally gotten Scotty to be quiet and let them leave. One day, Spock promised himself, he would master all the intricacies of the English language.

"Always," Jim replied. "What's up?"

"I would like to request the use of one of the observation decks this weekend," Spock said.

Jim glanced at him, forehead furrowed in confusion. "Sure, of course," Jim said. "Mind if I ask what for?"

Spock's throat felt dry and he swallowed, hoping his voice wouldn't sound odd when he spoke. "I wish to hold two memorial services. One will be a public service for the Vulcans who have been killed and the second will be a private service for my mother." The silence went on for long enough that Spock looked over. Jim had stopped walking a few paces back and was staring at him. Spock turned around and walked back to stand in front of Jim, mentally berating himself for not paying more attention to his surroundings. "I apologize for the short notice as well as the unusual nature of my request," Spock continued. "I do realize a memorial service has already been held on New Vulcan, however I was unable to attend due to my duties here. I believe one day should be sufficient for my purposes, however if that is too much time I am sure I can—"

"No, Spock, _no_ ," Jim said, quietly enough Spock could only just hear him. He ran a hand over his eyes and licked his lips, then opened his mouth and closed it twice before he next spoke. "I mean, yeah, of course, you don't even have to ask. Take the whole week if you need it. I'm sorry, I should have done this for you. I didn't think. I'm sorry." Jim reached out and placed a hand on Spock's shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"There is no need for you to apologize," Spock replied, oddly feeling both comforted and saddened by Jim's response. "I do not expect you to anticipate my requests in advance."

"No, you shouldn't have _had_ to ask for this," Jim said. He shook his head. "Anything you need, you can have it. Let me know if you need my help with anything."

"I do not believe I will require anything outside of my own belongings," Spock said. "However I will ask if a need arises."

Jim nodded and dropped his hand. "Let me know what time and day the public service is for. I'll make an announcement to the crew about it."

"I will inform you as soon as I am certain," Spock said. "The schedule depends on which observation deck I am permitted to use."

"Whichever one you want," Jim said. "Just let me know and I'll make arrangements."

"Thank you," Spock said, inclining his head. "We should head back to the bridge."

"Yeah, we should," Jim replied. "And it's okay, you don't have to thank me for this."

"As you wish."

Spock began walking towards the lift, completely taken by surprise at Jim's response. He knew his friend was both emotional and physical in his reactions, but he had not expected Jim to blame himself for some imagined fault. Spock knew he was the one person on the ship who was most affected by the Vulcan Massacre, and so it was his responsibility and obligation to arrange the memorial services. He would not have even considered expecting Jim to do it, given that Jim was already busy with his work and surely had no real personal interest in the matter.

Once they entered the lift, Jim cleared his throat and asked, "Would you mind if I came to your mother's service?"

Spock did not look over at him, choosing instead to look at the control panel next to the door. "I would be honored should you choose to attend."

They were quiet until they arrived at the bridge. Jim went back to his chair and Spock returned to his own station, where work had piled up since they had been gone. Neither of them brought up the memorial services again that day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The differences between Vulcans and humans were so vast they could fill up warehouses of encyclopedias, thousands of terabytes of pure information that simply listed all of the ways the two species were incompatible. This was why Spock found it so impossibly hard to understand why his father and mother had fallen in love. He assumed it was love—the way she had looked at him had been full of affection, and he had told Spock outright that he had loved her. But sometimes Spock wondered about the way his father had explained it to him when he was a child. Why would his father not tell him it was love then? Why wait until she was dead and he was old enough that he had long since accepted his father's answer? There was no logic to explain this, just as there was never any logic to emotions.

He couldn't explain why they had gotten together or what their feelings for each other were, but Spock knew he could sort through their differences alphabetically if someone had asked him to. His father had always been distant, a figure that stood out to him as being omnipotent and enduring, someone who had all the answers and shared none of them. He had been present physically but not emotionally, which was a distinction he had never pointed out to anyone on Vulcan. Even the implication of having an emotional distance from his father would have been enough for everyone to label him a full human instead of just half. That one half had caused enough damage on its own. Giving it any more credence or power than he absolutely needed to would have ostracized him completely. When he thought of his father, Spock remembered that the most—being different and, no matter how much he studied or fought to maintain strict control over his emotions and expressions, knowing he would never be able to fit in with his peers or achieve the acceptance he longed for from the one person he desperately wanted to gain it from.

His mother had always been close by, full of warmth and affection and eager to give both away. She only knew how to smile when she saw Spock, no matter the time or occasion, and every smile was as sincere and whole-hearted as the last. Still, even with that overwhelming display of love, there had been times when he had doubted her. Each time he saw her he could not help but think of her position. The only human in a world of Vulcans, so full of emotions she threatened to explode from their power, and ignored or reviled by everyone except her husband and son. Spock knew the lack of emotions his father showed, and so he also knew that if his mother would get any show of affection at all, it would be from him alone. Half of him was able to give her what she needed, and she took everything he could give her, all of his smiles and affection, and it did not seem to matter to her that it was only half of what she was giving him. On a planet full of people who strived for an emotionless existence, Spock knew his mother must have longed for whatever she could get. He wondered if that was why they had been close, if a connection had been made between them due to genetics and nothing more. But then he remembered her smiles, every single day, every single _minute_ , and Spock realized the reason behind their actions didn't actually matter.

So his father had been the perfect Vulcan and his mother had been the perfect human, and that left Spock stuck in the middle, imperfect in every way. Stuck right between the two races, born onto a line he had never meant to try and live on. Balancing his two sides was about as useless an endeavor as he could imagine. Accepting his emotions and showing them without shame was just as unacceptable to Vulcans as thinking every situation through using logic was to humans. Even if he went half-way, perhaps switching back and forth between emotions and logic for whatever situation popped up, he would still be set apart from both species whose members instinctively knew what was appropriate. Years of hiding his emotions combined with the sudden need to show them, added to his confidence that logic would always come to the best conclusion in every situation, had Spock grasping at thin air. He knew eventually he would find some kind of stability, a way to accurately judge each situation or person and go from there, but until then he was forced to stand out. First Officer of the Enterprise, the first Vulcan to ever enroll in Starfleet, and one of the only survivors of the Vulcan Massacre—how could he not stand out? But he had chosen this life, a life of adventure and discovery and separation from everything he had ever known, and he would see it through no matter what.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At the end of the second week into their five-year mission, the crew of the Enterprise held their first memorial service. Jim hoped it would also be their last. Like basically everyone, he hated all types of funerals, wakes, and related ceremonies involving honoring the memory of the recently dead. Jim had a long, personal history with funerals starting from when he was only ten days old. Not that he could remember that one, but he felt it was necessary to make his point. He had been to enough services to honor the dead. He had no desire to attend any more. All they did was remind him of how futile everything was, of how much people struggled their way through life just to end up with nothing. Funerals were the most depressing events ever created, and memorial services were equally bad.

Still, Jim knew he was sticking this one out until the end. The observation deck had been filled with chairs and a few reminders of Vulcan—some red rocks from Spock's quarters, books and treatises penned by Vulcans, and several holographic images of the planet from various angles, including images of the ground filled with buildings and people. It was the best that could be done on such short notice, and Jim was left thinking this was all that was left of an entire planet and culture. A few rocks, some books, grainy reproduced holographic images, and the solitary Vulcan in a room otherwise filled with humans.

Spock was standing alone near the images, staring at them with the intensity only he could achieve. Jim was at the other end of the observatory deck, leaning against the far wall and trying to remain unseen. The memorial was scheduled to last three hours, which would allow all members of the crew enough time to visit regardless of which shift they worked. It had been half an hour already, and more people had shown up to pay their respects than Jim had thought would come. This was for their First Officer and so some people might feel obligated to show support, but Jim didn't think that was it.

He remembered the faces of everyone he had passed that day. There had been a shell-shocked look about all of them, eyes wide and lips pressed together and moving in a rushed daze. They had jobs to do, they had to save Earth, but they had just witnessed the destruction of an entire civilization. They did their jobs admirably, performed as well as they always did, but there was a sense of desperation in the air among them, a horror that built up slowly around them all. Six billion people had just been wiped out because of one man's vengeance. Six billion people—all of them with families and dreams for the future. It was one of those imaginary numbers that people could say but were never able to really grasp. Jim remembered sitting in his room that night and thinking about how big a number three billion was. There were somewhere around five to six thousand people in Starfleet Academy at any one time, including the cadets, professors, visitors, tourists, and officials. To make the math easier, Jim had rounded it up to six thousand. Six billion divided by six thousand equaled one million. That meant the entire population of the Academy would need to die times one million, or else one million copies of each person. One million Admiral Pikes needed to be killed to equal one-six-thousandth of Spock's loss. One million Uhuras, one million McCoys, one million of his annoying physics professor who only called on him when he was hung over, one million of that girl he never talked to who always wore her skirts shorter than regulation allowed, one million of the cafeteria lady who gave him a free chocolate chip cookie when he laughed at her cheesy jokes, one million of each of the members of the board that he had been tried for cheating in front of, one million of himself, of James T. Kirks. All of them put together, one million of every single person he had seen in three years' time, still might not equal how many people had been killed. That's what Jim saw in everyone's faces that day. The knowledge that, no matter how they tried to imagine it, they never would be able to. It was a loss too unimaginable to deal with. So they had all pushed it aside, no one wanting to be the one to remind everyone else they should be in mourning, and it was only Spock who was left remembering that day. It was only Spock who had been unwilling to forget.

As the shifts changed and more people came and left the memorial, Jim realized he wanted to say something to Spock. A few people had muttered what he imagined were comforting words of loss or shared grief, but Jim knew he needed to say something meaningful. He was tired of death and the ceremonies that went along with it, but this was different. This was a friend's loss, someone he had grown inordinately fond of within a month of their first meeting. Not only that, but this was a loss on a scale so big Jim knew he had nothing to compare it to.

There might be some kind of generic statement in Vulcan to cover memorial services. Something like "I'm sorry for your loss" only much more logical. But Jim didn't know what it could possibly be. He knew next to nothing about Vulcan society. He certainly didn't know what he was supposed to do in situations like this, what the correct sayings or gestures were. What he was supposed to know was in-between pages 217 and 243 of Starfleet Academy's Introduction to Alien Worlds, but what he remembered from that section were the five factoids they had been tested on. Vulcan was the fifth planet to join the Federation, making it one of the most influential planets politically. Vulcan was an arid planet with a thin atmosphere. Vulcans had higher body temperatures than humans and lived for much longer. Vulcans were peaceful people who preferred to solve all problems using logic. Vulcans studied their entire lives to achieve a state of emotionless knowledge. That was it. The entire history of Vulcan in five bullet points every cadet was forced to remember.

They would probably re-write that section now. Jim was sure of it. They had to. There would be something in it about Nero and how genocide was morally wrong, in case anyone was in doubt about it, and maybe the Enterprise and her crew would get a line or two. _Acting Captain Kirk and Commander Spock led a newly-formed crew to victory when they defeated Nero (the time-travelling Romulan, see pages 119, 218, 506), thus avenging Vulcan and saving Earth from meeting a similar fate._ That sounded a bit too congratulatory and self-important, which was how most of those textbooks had read, so it was perfect. Maybe, if Jim ever got to be truly famous, they would leave off the "Acting."

Right now, though, all he knew for sure was that the memorial was wrapping up and he still hadn't said anything. Uhura had come and gone, along with all of the other members of the bridge. Scotty and McCoy had dropped by, too. Jim had barely noticed them all, giving them a small nod on their way out. His attention was focused on Spock—how his shoulders were drawn back tightly, stiffly, and how his stance was forced into looking casual. Jim could see the tightness running throughout Spock's body, and all he wanted to do was help him. He just didn't know how.

Then the room was clearing out and Jim realized three hours had passed while he had been wondering what to do. Spock still stood at the front of the room, looking at the hologram as though he could bring it back into existence by sheer force of will. Jim waited until the deck was empty and then swallowed heavily, determined to do something but still unsure what. He walked up to Spock, stride much more confident than he felt, and stopped a few inches behind him.

Jim opened his mouth to say something meaningful, something that would help Spock get through this, but then he abruptly realized there was absolutely nothing he could say. Instead, Jim put his hand on Spock's shoulder, already recognizing this gesture as one he used often when dealing with his First Officer. He let his hand rest there, a small pressure that let Spock know Jim was right behind him. Just in case.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Time passed in odd ways that day. Spock recognized a steady stream of people, some of them familiar and some he knew only from in passing. He would never be quite sure who had been there, but it didn't matter. Enough people had shown up that he knew the crew was mourning the loss of Vulcan. Anything else was superficial.

Spock remembered the holographic projections the most. They were poorly captured still frames, yet they reminded him of the life he had turned his back on when he had chosen to enter Starfleet. He had never seen that particular building or this specific ridge, but he remembered many similar landscapes and after a while, they all blended together into an amalgamation of his original memories and the last images he would ever see of his home planet.

He also remembered a few people in particular. Scotty, McCoy, Sulu, and Chekov had all been appropriately subdued. They had offered their condolences and went on their way, and it was very similar for each of them although they hadn't arrived together and hadn't seen each other while at the memorial. Spock vaguely realized there must be some kind of human ritual involved in similar ceremonies, and the thought comforted him. Rituals could be good. They were easy to fall back on in times when nothing else worked. He heard the phrases "I'm sorry for your loss" and "Please accept my condolences" at least a hundred times each. That was fine with him. Those were perfectly acceptable statements.

Uhura had stayed for longer than most people. Spock knew that because, for a while, every time he happened to move his head just so he could see her out of the corner of his eye, standing a few feet away from him. She was silent for a while and then offered her condolences before she asked Spock if there was anything he needed. He declined and she left shortly thereafter. Despite his intentions to be more aware of her feelings, Spock couldn't find it in himself to care that she left. He didn't want her to stand there for him. He wanted her to stand there for everyone who had died.

Jim was different, which Spock was quickly learning was normal for him. Jim had stayed for the entire memorial, or at least Spock saw him at the beginning and end of it, and he hadn't offered Spock any of the generic statements that everyone else had said. Instead, Jim had put his hand on Spock's shoulder and left it there, and for some reason that was more of a comfort than everything else he had heard put together.

Spock dimly remembered changing the set-up of the room for his mother's service. Much of it was the same, except that he had a few pictures of her and so he placed those in the front of the observation deck. Spock recalled a smaller group of people staying for longer this time. Jim stayed close by this time, and Spock was grateful for his support. Jim took his time studying all the pictures of Spock's mother. Spock hoped he was learning through them who she was. The kindness she had given out and the hope for a better future were aspects of her that should not be forgotten. Spock did not want to forget anything about his mother at all, but it scared him more than he would ever admit to wonder if he could forget the love she had shown him when everyone else in his life had rejected him.

Everyone else looked at the pictures and thumbed through the books and picked up the rocks, looking for some kind of connection that Spock knew they simply didn't have. Even Uhura did the same, although she spent more time with each object and gave them each more consideration. Still, when Chekov was staring at an image of the planet and Sulu was running his fingers along one of the rocks and Scotty was inspecting one of the holographic houses and McCoy and Uhura were discussing an essay on distributing medicine amongst species who were not entirely sentient—it was then that Spock realized Jim was holding up his favorite picture of his mother. She was standing next to one of the largest rocks on Vulcan, stretching her hands up to the top of it, not able to reach it but still trying.

"You look like her," Jim said. The corner of his mouth turned upwards in the hint of a smile.

"Do I?" Spock asked. "I have never noticed a physical resemblance."

Jim walked a step closer and held the picture up next to Spock's face. Jim's eyes flicked back and forth between the two images, Spock and his mother's faces, and Spock held carefully still.

"You do," Jim said, quietly. "I think it's the nose."

"I have never noticed," Spock repeated.

"Well, it's there," Jim said. He traced his finger lightly over the nose in the picture before reaching out and touching the spot directly in-between Spock's eyebrows, letting his finger gently skim down until it reached the end of Spock's nose. He let his hand drop and looked at Spock appraisingly. "I definitely see it."

It was suddenly harder to breathe. Jim holding his mother's picture had Spock feeling out of sorts, not necessarily unpleasantly so, but still unusual. Spock nodded once at Jim and was relieved when Jim returned the picture to its original location and moved on to the next one.

The rest of the memorial service passed in a blur. Nothing was spoken formally because no one except Spock had known her and Spock did not want to speak. There were a few small conversations in the remaining time, but Spock only stared at his mother's picture and wondered about their noses, her constant smiles, and if he would ever forget the way she had looked at him when she knew she was about to die.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bah, RL crap happened liek whoa. And OMG, I am really not happy with some parts of this section. But whatever, such is life, I'm moving on and dealing with it. Also, I am DONE talking about death. I don't care what the characters say, I am going back to the main plot and they can all SUCK MY ASS. Just FYI. You'll also notice I have issues with giving OCs names. Sorry, it just bothers me is all. I hate naming characters who pop up once and have no future relevance. I wouldn't even have any OCs if I could get away with it, but I can't. ll that travelling around, meeting people, it just requires OCs. ;_; Finally, I started watching TOS, but everyone's so different that I doubt it'll have any effect on the fic at all. *shrugs* Also, LOL, I wrote a Pinto drabble. WTF self?!
> 
>  **EDIT:** Part 3 edited on June 6, 2009 because I'm an asshat. I fucked up and forgot the chair _does indeed_ swivel in the movie. However, because of my fuck-up, I unintentionally thought up something else, so perhaps it all works out okay in the end, yay? I took out the swivel mentions here, so the edits are very minor, in the fourth scene in this part (the one with McCoy). I'm half delirious from staying up all night and then freaking out over this swivel chair disaster. *headdesk*

Death was never something Jim dealt well with. He had run into it plenty of times in his life, and each time it had been more or less the same story. An accident had happened, something unavoidable, and now everyone else was left thinking things weren't how they should be. Someone was missing, someone important, and people would grieve and move on because if they didn't, they would get stuck in the absurdity and pointlessness of it all.

His father's death had been the most influential and yet also the only one he couldn't remember. Everyone talked to him about it, forcing him to learn through years of repetition and anecdotes that his father had been a great man. A great man—those were always the words. His father had been a great man who had done great things and lived a great life and died a noble death. No one ever used the word "great" to describe death, but "noble" was close enough that Jim figured it didn't really matter. His mother was the strongest voice of them all, the one with the most clout and anecdotes to tell, but she was only one of hundreds. Even literal strangers on the street had stopped him to tell him that he looked just like his father who, by the way, had been a great man.

There had been plenty of other deaths. Various pets had died over the years—one dog named Hunter (his step-father had named him in an ultimately futile effort to get the Golden Retriever to be more menacing), one cat named Jinx (his mother had named her that because every time she waltzed into a room something broke), and three gerbils (all named by Jim himself) dubbed Larry (due to lack of time and gender confusion, Larry was later re-named Linda, much to everyone's consternation, but the name had already stuck), Warthog (his prepubescent streak of nastiness had caused him to hope the namesake would come to fruition), and Gerbil the Third (simply out of sheer unoriginality and called Third by everyone except his mother, who believed in addressing all life forms by their proper names). They had all been buried in various containers in the back yard, so that now when Jim thought of his yard he thought of the small section in the back with five polished stones placed in a haphazard row.

He had friends who died. Family members had died—both ones he knew and ones he had never met. Two teachers had died—one in elementary school and one in high school. A bartender he had known for a few months died from a gunshot wound when an angry customer had opened fire because they had been out of the beer he liked. A kid from school died from frostbite when he had been stuck skiing with no way to get help. A woman had a heart attack and died in the local food store when he had been in the next aisle looking for the cereal that was on sale. The man who lived down the street and never talked to anyone died from falling down his stairs, and no one had known until he started to smell. His first crush's brother had died, and his crush had died not long after—car accident and suicide, respectively.

Death was just something that happened. It couldn't be avoided. He knew it and tried not to dwell on it because, quite simply, there was absolutely nothing he could do. There were no preparations to make, no words to say or actions to do that could get anyone out of it. Still, Jim thought the deaths of six billion people were a bit too much, even for him.

It wasn't just the fact that so many people had died. If he was being honest, he could admit that he had no real stake in Vulcan. It was a tragedy, yes, but it was a tragedy that had been so far away from his own life. He lived on Earth, and no matter how much he despised it, he still had a home to go back to. His bedroom was still how he had left it. His belongings were still there. His favorite bands, the actors he liked, the people he knew, the works of art everyone was supposed to see that he hadn't got around to yet, the evidence of hundreds of years of city planning in paved roads and cookie-cutter houses, libraries filled with thousands of years of literature, cartoons, postcards from every small town along every highway, shopping malls, universities, jeans and t-shirts, video games, G.I. Joes and Barbie dolls and cheaper knock-offs, cell phones and communicators, ID cards, huge slippers with heads on the top—all of that was still there. Everything he had ever seen or interacted with or heard about or even _thought_ about—he could go back to Earth right now and have access to all of it.

Spock couldn't do that. He had no home. No bedroom. No favorite music. No famous people. No works of art or libraries or children's toys or clothing or schools or roads or food or _anything_. There was literally nothing left of Vulcan society. Everything that Spock had ever connected with the thought of home was gone. Not just somewhere else, not simply far away or lost, but _gone_. And none of it was ever going to be replaced.

(Even thinking of Vulcan recreation had Jim stumbling. They were so logical, so precise and deadpan and completely focused on work and attaining their form of enlightenment, that imagining any Vulcan in a moment of leisure was next to impossible. But Jim knew Spock did enjoy time away from work. He had seen Spock reading, listening to classical music, and playing a game of chess against either himself or an invisible opponent. So Jim knew Vulcans could appreciate entertainment, and that had Jim imagining what Vulcan music sounded like, what Vulcan art looked like, which Vulcan writing was considered to be the best or the trashiest. One day, when the Vulcan Massacre was far behind them and they were better friends than they were now, Jim would ask him. Maybe Spock would even give him an answer.)

Jim wanted to offer him comfort of some kind. But he knew there was nothing he could say or do, and anyway bringing it up again would only cause Spock more pain. Besides, in the end, the only reason he was even thinking of Vulcan at all was because of Spock. If he hadn't met Spock, the loss of Vulcan would have still been horrible beyond anything he had ever imagined, but he would have already moved on. It was thanks to his First Officer that Jim was thinking about it, really pondering everything that had been lost that day.

That was the worst part. He had only known Spock for a few hours before Vulcan was destroyed. They hadn't even been friends yet. How could he say anything when they both knew it was a lie?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Three days after the memorial services, Scotty was describing to Jim why they had to warp to the nearest Federation outpost. Jim was only half paying attention. He knew it was important to listen, but he had one eye on Spock, watching for any signs of distress. His First Officer had been, unsurprisingly, completely calm after the services had ended. The next day, Spock had appeared normal in every way. Jim hoped he was dealing with it and not simply ignoring everything, but the only way to be sure was to ask and there was no way he was bringing it up again unless Spock brought it up first.

"Captain?" Scotty asked, waving a hand in front of his face.

Jim blinked and looked at him. "Hm? What?"

"Which do you want first?" Scotty asked, and Jim assumed he had repeated himself several times before this from his heavy sigh.

"What are the choices again?" Jim asked.

Scotty stared at him. "Good news. Bad news. Pick one."

"Bad news," Jim said. "When those are the options, _always_ give me the bad news first." He paused. "Unless they're both equally bad and you're just trying to joke about it, in which case it doesn't really matter."

"The bad news is," Scotty began, shaking his head, "the transporter will only run for another three to four beams, max, before the hyperelectric coil needs to be replaced." He thrust his finger up into the air and quickly continued, "The good news is that the ship didn't explode."

Jim laughed and then abruptly stopped when he realized Scotty was giving him shifty eyes. "Wait. Was that ever a possibility?"

Scotty scratched his eyebrow and looked off to the side. "There may have been, at one point, a very _small_ chance that the ship _might_ have exploded."

"And you didn't _say anything_?!" Jim asked, shouting and glaring at him.

"What could I say?" Scotty asked.

"‘Hey, Captain, the ship might explode.' That would've worked!" Jim ran a hand over his face, shaking his head.

"Actually, that was a _hypothetical_ —" Scotty cut himself off when Jim glared at him. "Okay, no, you're right, sorry. I'll remember next time."

"Next time?" Jim crossed his arms unhappily. "There'd better not _be_ a next time."

"Oh, there'll be a next time if we don't get that hyperelectric coil," Scotty said. "You just think about that. We warp to a Federation outpost or the ship explodes." He threw his hands up in the air in a dramatic gesture that was really unnecessary. "Your choice, Captain."

"Chekov, how far is the nearest Federation outpost?" Jim asked, sighing.

"Twenty-eight parsecs away, Captain. It's on a planet that's otherwise uninhabited." Chekov paused. "The report states there should be at least five people stationed there."

"It's not on Delta Vega, is it?" Jim asked. "Because I'm not going back there."

"No, sir," Chekov replied. "It's on Alpha Four Gamma."

"All right, then. Sulu, let's get there before the ship explodes," Jim said, shaking his head.

"Yes, sir," Sulu replied. "Happy to oblige."

" _Thank you_ ," Scotty said, giving Jim a half-hearted bow. "Now I'm going back to engineering to make sure the ship doesn't explode."

"Yes, do that," Jim said. "Make sure the ship doesn't explode." Scotty walked to the lift, and just as the lift doors were closing, Jim shouted, "That's an order! If the ship explodes, you're fired!"

"Captain, I feel it would be remiss not to point out that this Federation outpost might not have a hyperelectric coil available," Spock said. Jim turned around to look at him. "If they do indeed have a spare hyperelectric coil, we may have to trade for it."

"Trade?" Jim asked, frowning. "But we're in the Federation. This is a Federation ship. We shouldn't have to trade for anything we need from one of our own outposts."

"Unfortunately, due to the low amount of traffic Federation outposts receive, they often request survival items such as food or clothing in exchange for the services only they can provide," Spock explained.

"That sounds like a scam," Jim said. "They've got food there already. It's not like they're starving."

"Yes, they do have food. However, they also have the hyperelectric coil we need and the ability to set the terms for how we will acquire it," Spock said. "This is pure speculation, yet I believe we should be prepared in case the situation arises."

"All right. Thanks, Spock," Jim said, sighing. "We'll see what happens when we get down there."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As it turned out, what the five people who lived on Alpha Four Gamma wanted most was some company. Spock understood companionship was vital to every being's mental health, but their request convinced him that what he had already speculated was true. Humans were the strangest among all the races in the universe. When given the choice between what was necessary for survival and what was wanted for comfort, they would choose comfort over their own physical needs. It was so completely illogical that Spock could only let the entire affair fall under the catch-all category of _Too Human To Understand_ and agree to their terms.

Jim, Spock, Sulu, and McCoy had beamed down to the outpost. Jim had explained his choices to Spock with the same logic he used when he wasn't thinking too hard about it. Sulu would go because of his polite nature and ability to soothe people who were aggravated, McCoy would go in case his medical skills were needed, and Spock himself went because, as Jim put it, there was no way Jim was going to another outpost without dragging him along, too. So the four of them had arrived and been greeted with excited smiles. It had been nearly an hour and already they were settled into three groups for conversation: Jim and McCoy were speaking with the two highest ranking officers, Sulu was speaking with two of the remaining officers, and Spock was currently engaged in conversation with the eldest officer there. This man was fifty-three years old and had served in Starfleet for over thirty years. He explained to Spock that, although he could have retired or asked for an easier assignment, he enjoyed the quiet, peaceful nature of life at an outpost.

"As a Vulcan, I'm sure you can understand my sentiments," the man said. "There is nothing so relaxing as being able to sit in the quiet and let yourself think. Don't you agree?"

"I do," Spock said, although he was not entirely sure he did. "Silence is indeed the best environment for meditative thoughts."

"Meditative," the man repeated, pondering Spock's choice of words. "That would be the best way to describe it, wouldn't it? That's you Vulcans. Always ready with the perfect answer."

"Vulcans take pride in the ability to quickly come to the logical conclusion of all problems," Spock replied.

"Yes, yes, that's very true," the man stated. "I have only met one other Vulcan in my time, and she had an answer for every question posed to her." He chuckled, glancing at his hands fondly. "Even if it wasn't the answer you wanted, she would still give it to you."

"I see," Spock said. He found he was often using that phrase to respond to comments that he did not entirely understand and yet required a reply. It was a tricky business, conversing with humans.

The man looked at Spock, face somber and all the laughter suddenly gone. "While we are on the topic of Vulcans, I must say, I am very sorry for your tragic loss," the man said. "We heard the news when over the fleet-wide broadcast." He shook his head, eyes wrinkling in sorrow. "What a senseless waste."

Spock inclined his head, unsure how to respond. He had grown more used to these statements as time passed and he continued hearing them, but he didn't think he would ever be entirely sure what the best way to respond was. There seemed to be no good way to respond, since he would either have to lie about his own feelings on the matter or lie to make the well-wisher feel better. Either way had Spock lying to cover up the depth of the tragedy, and he saw no point in doing so.

Spock was about to change the topic to something more light-hearted when he noticed Jim stand up, gesture to Sulu, and walk to the far wall. Sulu joined him a moment later, and they began a quiet conversation that Spock could not overhear.

"Ah," the man said, looking at Jim and Sulu. "It seems your friends are having a little pow-wow."

Spock had no idea what pow-wow meant, but context clues were a wonderful thing. "Yes, it would appear that way."

"I'd like to go talk to your doctor, anyhow," the man said, standing up and gesturing to McCoy. "I have a twinge in my back that I'm sure is only going to get worse if I let it go."

"I am certain Doctor McCoy will be happy to assist you," Spock said.

"It was good speaking with you," the man stated, smiling. "I enjoy good conversation more than anything else these days."

Spock inclined his head. "I am glad to have been of assistance to you."

The man walked over to McCoy, who immediately turned and began speaking with him. Spock stood there watching them speak for only a few moments before he began walking towards Jim and Sulu. As Spock moved closer, he heard the end of their conversation.

"Just whatever we can spare," Jim said, quietly. "There's no need to starve ourselves. But any extra comfort food, stuff they can't get out here, you know, like snacks and coffee and meat, bring that down. None of that frozen crap." Jim shuddered, pulling a face. "Once the transporter's back up, of course."

"Scotty said he'd have it running within the hour," Sulu replied. "I can beam up, collect the food in the meantime, and have it ready by the time he's done."

"Great. And remember, there's five of them. Bring enough for five—no more, no less," Jim stated.

"Yes, sir," Sulu said. He saluted Jim and then walked towards the entrance of the building, saluting Spock as he passed.

"Captain." Spock walked to stand next to Jim, both of their backs to the wall as they looked at the main room of the small outpost.

"Mr. Spock," Jim returned, grinning at him. Jim saluted with a quick, sloppy gesture and leaned back on the wall, crossing his arms behind him. "How was it?"

"What are you referring to?"

"Talking to the old guy," Jim said, nodding in the man's direction. "Was it boring? Did he tell you a thousand stories about how back in his day they had to _drive_ to school?"

"Ah. No, he did not," Spock replied. "We talked at length about the virtues of silent contemplation, a subject on which you would have nothing to add." Spock felt the corner of his mouth curve upwards. There was a moment where he wanted to force himself into a blank expression. Quickly, he decided against it. He was attempting to be more human, after all. There was no real harm in a simple facial expression.

"Oh, I get it," Jim said, nodding. Spock saw his grin widen and was immediately glad he had made the joke. Humor was becoming easier. The one aspect of it Spock found he was quite good at was telling the truth in a monotone. People assumed it was a specific type of humor called sarcasm, which apparently was often accompanied by his characteristic eyebrow raise. It seemed to work. "You guys talked about how it's better to be quiet than talk. Because that makes sense." Spock could hear Jim's grin widening in the tone of his voice. "And we all know everything you do makes sense."

"Of course," Spock replied. He wasn't entirely certain he should bring up the other topic, but it was on his mind and he thought he should mention it. This was Jim, after all, who had helped him through several incidents due to his grief. It would be hypocritical and a step backwards in their friendship to avoid the topic now. "He also gave me his condolences," Spock said, slowly. Jim moved his head to the side to look at Spock. A few seconds passed where Spock looked directly ahead, but then he also turned to look at Jim. The feeling of warmth and comfort that ran through him was welcome and oddly unsurprising. "The outpost received the fleet-wide notice."

"Are you okay?" Jim asked, voice much quieter than it had been the last time he spoke.

"Yes." Spock knew Jim wanted more information than that, but it was difficult for him to find the right words. "Speaking about the Vulcan Massacre becomes easier each day."

"But it's still hard," Jim said, voice confident.

"Yes. It is still hard," Spock replied.

They were both silent after that, neither one wanting to say something that would upset the careful balance they'd reached. Spock hoped Jim wasn't internally agonizing over what he should do. The more they spoke, the more Spock realized that Jim often internally agonized without mentioning it to anyone. It was odd to know that because Jim was so emotionally aware that Spock assumed he would be open about those feelings in the same way he was with everything else. However, he had only known Jim for just over three weeks. It really hadn't been long enough yet for him to make broad assumptions.

What Spock wanted to say was something regarding Jim giving these people food. It was an unwise move from his viewpoint as First Officer. The agreement had been the hyperelectric coil for some conversation, and they had provided their end of the deal. Giving away more than that made no logical sense. For some reason, though, it was reassuring to know that Jim was the type of person who wanted to help when he could. Even if it was illogical to do so. But there was nothing to say that would get Jim to understand why that mattered. Spock couldn't explain in a sentence or two how it had been to live with a group of people who were peaceful and yet ultimately too detached from their emotions to truly care about the well-being of others. Vulcans always helped where they could, but they kept themselves apart from the proceedings, detached in a way that had their help seeming more begrudging than it should have. Jim was the exact opposite—he cared and he didn't mind showing it, no matter the situation. It made everything he did stand out that much more simply because he wanted to do it.

Eventually Sulu beamed down with the food. The officers stationed at the outpost were surprised and delighted to receive it. They left on a pleasurable note, both sides happy with the trade, and Spock realized he knew why Jim had been made Captain. He could see the man Jim was and the man he would become—someone willing to go out of his way to assist others, someone who wanted his crew to feel at home on his ship, someone who broke deals when he needed to and did it in a way that nobody minded. It was only his third week as Captain, but for some reason it struck Spock that Jim fit the role more than he had three weeks ago. Spock found himself looking forward to this rare opportunity, knowing he had a chance to watch a man become a great leader.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Death was a completely normal part of life's process, and as such Spock had no problems accepting it as a part of the natural order. However, knowing that death was an aspect of life did not mean Spock was overly familiar with it. In truth, although Vulcans had funeral practices and mourned their dead, the actual experience of living through the death of someone close to him was not something Spock had ever encountered. He had read about it, had seen others on Vulcan disappear for a few days from school or work before reappearing and acting exactly the same as before. It was equally unpermitted to show grief as it was to show every other emotion, no matter the relation of the person who had died. So Spock had known death existed in a peripheral sense—people he did not know died and people he did not know mourned them. It was a matter separate from his daily life.

It seemed unfair that his first true experience with death should be so large and impossible to understand. But oddly, what struck Spock the most wasn't anything related to those deaths. The one thing that stood out the most to Spock was that, amongst all of the confusion and uncertainty that accompanied tragedy, he had found himself starting a new life. By sheer accident, or perhaps he should call it luck, he had been assigned to the Enterprise along with the majority of the crew he now worked with. Besides that, the chances that Jim would find a way to get on board the same starship Spock was on were infinitesimal. Yet without Jim there, Spock knew they would never have been able to destroy the man who had unknowingly re-shaped his life.

It was a fact that if Nero had never shown up, Spock would be living an entirely different life right now. He would have gone ahead with the charges against Jim and never once tried to look for anything more in a man he now considered to be a good friend. He would have continued his life as it had been, never knowing that he had missed out on an opportunity to explore the universe.

It was strange to think it, but the horrible truth was that Nero's actions had given Spock a new life. That was the one thought that continuously came to him. Yes, he was appalled at the deaths and grieved over everyone lost. Yes, he would never be able to replace his mother or home planet. Yet the past three weeks had given Spock more to look forward to than he ever had before. The thought of waking up in the morning and not walking onto the bridge, not going through the paperwork and records, not eating in the mess hall and relaxing in the recreation rooms—he simply couldn't imagine it.

And, as emotional and cliché and ridiculous as he knew it was, Spock was forced to admit, at least to himself, that he couldn't imagine going through a day without talking to Jim. The man's presence had taken over a large part of Spock's routine, and no matter what Spock pictured he could always see Jim standing next to him, making an inane remark or grinning stupidly or rolling his eyes dramatically. That was the kind of man Jim was. He forced himself into people's lives and carved out a space no one else could ever fit into. Spock had lost more than anyone should have to, but he also felt he had gained something irreplaceable. It was illogical, and so he didn't think too much on it, but it was the truth. A trade had been made by Nero's hand—an old life for a new one, Spock's planet and people and mother for a chance to explore unknown worlds and form friendships with people he was beginning to value. He would learn to do the best with what he had received in the trade, just as he would try not to think of what he had given up in exchange.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jim had known McCoy for longer than almost everyone on the ship—save for Uhura, who beat out McCoy by a few hours. But he had never actually gotten to know Uhura, had only flirted with her for kicks when he saw her, and so he considered McCoy the person he had actually _known_ for the longest period of time before coming to the Enterprise. He was certainly closest to McCoy. Jim considered him a good friend, probably his best friend, and knew he would do what he could to help the other man out.

" _Jim_." McCoy said his name in the tone that meant he was about to say something he really didn't want to. Jim looked over his shoulder, gesturing for McCoy to come closer. They were on the bridge, and he was in his chair, and there really was no reason for him to actually get up from his chair when McCoy could simply say what he wanted to right there.

" _Bones_ ," Jim said in an equally dismal tone. "The answer's probably going to be no." Bones gave him an unimpressed look. "Hey, I just thought you should know," he said, spreading his hands out. "No need for the look."

"You're _late_ ," McCoy said.

Jim paused, blinking once, slowly. "Um… I am?"

"You are, Captain," Spock said.

Jim turned in the other direction to look at him. "For what?" Jim asked. "Did someone do something without telling me about it again?"

"I did inform you that your schedule had been changed for the day," Spock said.

"You did?" Jim asked, frowning. "Was this when I was ignoring you?"

Spock's lips thinned out. "Apparently."

"Not that I often ignore you," Jim said. "Because I don't. But I was tired and kind of had this headache, so—"

" _Jim_!" McCoy grabbed his shoulder, forcibly turning him back around. "If you don't get your scrawny ass to sick bay, I'm going to put on the record that you've got syphilis."

Jim's mouth dropped open. "You wouldn't."

McCoy stared at him. "Try me."

Jim blinked and closed his mouth. "Fine, I'm coming, give me a minute."

McCoy sighed and left the bridge, turning around in the lift and shoving his finger in Jim's direction. " _Syphilis_."

Jim stood up and walked to the lift, standing next to McCoy. As the doors were about to close, he put his foot in between them, forcing them back open. " _I don't have syphilis_ ," he said, scanning the bridge to make sure everyone acknowledged him. When everyone had given him some sort of sign, including a head shake from Uhura and a raised eyebrow from Spock, Jim nodded and drew his foot back, letting the door close.

"So why exactly am I going to sick bay?" Jim asked, glancing at McCoy. "Because you might have noticed no one told me yet."

"I noticed," McCoy replied.

Jim waited expectantly until the lift door opened again. The he sighed and said, "You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"Not even a little."

Jim frowned, walking toward sick bay without knowing why he was going there. "You know, I'm the Captain. People keep on _forgetting_ that."

"Oh, I remember," McCoy replied. "I just don't care."

"That's _great_ , that's _exactly_ the kind of attitude I want my chief medical officer to have." Jim nodded, pressing his lips together in an exaggerated show of irritation. "You're a true soldier, Bones."

"Get in," McCoy said, gesturing to sick bay's door. Jim went in without complaint, still wondering what it was he was supposed to be doing. "Take off your shirt and lie down."

Jim turned to look seductively at McCoy, exaggerating it for kicks, all narrowed eyes and wiggling eyebrows and pursed lips. "Why, Bones, if you wanted me _this_ badly, all you had to do was ask."

"Oh, yeah, Jim, I'm hot for you," McCoy said, blandly. "Now can you hurry up, I've got actual patients that need attending to. I can't be taking care of _you_ all day long."

Jim hopped onto the nearest bed and quickly took off his shirt, throwing it next to him with the carelessness of a man who knew other people would be doing his laundry for him. "Ouch. That really hurts. In here." Jim patted his heart, pulling a frown. The he let his hand drop and asked, "No, but seriously, what am I doing here?"

"If you would have read your schedule, you'd already know," McCoy pointed out. He picked out a few tools from his medical kit and walked over.

"Please tell me I'm not getting a shot," Jim said. "You know how I feel about shots." He hesitated another second before adding, "And I feel the strong urge to remind you that I'm the Captain, and as Captain I can order you to not give me a shot."

"You can't order me to do squat and you know it," McCoy replied. "I'll give you a shot if I want to give you a shot."

"See, I don't think that's right." Jim bit his lower lip. "Is it a shot?"

"No, it's not a damn shot," McCoy said, rolling his eyes. "You're acting like a twelve-year-old girl."

Jim immediately brightened up. "I'm not, I'm very manly. Everyone says so." He relaxed, shoulders slumping and fingers tapping the bed. "So if it's not a shot, what is it?"

"Saving Earth doesn't make you manly. It makes you famous. There's a difference." McCoy drew out a few tools that Jim vaguely recognized. It was hard to keep up with the medical sciences. There were so many advancements that he was only really familiar with the most basic instruments. Luckily enough, he didn't actually _need_ to know what they were. He only needed to trust that McCoy did, and that was as easy to do as breathing. "You didn't get your physical before we left. As Captain, you're supposed to have quarterly physicals. Which you would know, if you'd read the damn manuals."

"Hey, I read them," Jim said. "And by read, I mean browsed." He paused. "And by browsed, I mean flipped through once and then tossed across the room from boredom."

"That's what I thought," McCoy said. "Now shut up and breathe in deeply."

Jim went through a variety of tests, half of the time feeling like a trained monkey and the other half feeling like a porn star. He was sure there was some sort of medical reason why McCoy kept on asking him to bend over, but he was equally sure the nurses behind him probably had some work to do somewhere else. Not that he was complaining. It was just that the giggling was sort of distracting and had him losing his balance, and then McCoy made notes that probably said things like _Unable to stand up straight. Likely cause: syphilis._

"I'm telling you, I don't have syphilis," Jim said, twisting his head around to try and see McCoy. The giggling abruptly stopped, replaced seconds later by the sound of footsteps moving quickly away. "I meant that," Jim called, hoping a nasty rumor wouldn't be spreading around. "I really don't!"

"Would you shut up," McCoy snapped. "You're screwing with the results."

"That's not the only thing I'm screwing," Jim said, grinning.

McCoy walked over and bent down so that Jim could see him. "If you touch my nurses, I'll take apart your chair."

"That was _completely uncalled for_ ," Jim replied, scandalized. "And they wouldn't have me now, anyway. Thanks to _you_."

"All right, you're done," McCoy said. "And it's a good thing because if I have to hear your obnoxious voice for one more second I'm likely to kill myself."

Jim stood up, stretching, already feeling his back ache in weird places. "You say that like you mean it."

"That's because I do," McCoy answered. "Put your shirt on, you're fine."

"Thanks," Jim said, grinning. "You're not bad yourself."

McCoy looked to the ceiling, throwing his hands up. "What did I do?"

Jim threw his shirt back on, patted McCoy on the back, and walked back to the bridge. He briefly wondered if there was someone on board who had been a masseuse. That would be a useful position. Ship Masseuse. It would be a vital addition to any starship. He'd have to look into it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At first, Spock hadn't understood why he was being left alone so completely. The crew members seemed comfortable when dealing with Jim. They walked up to the Captain and talked to him as if they were friends, as if there were no boundaries between them. If the crew felt that comfortable with the Captain, it was logical to assume they would have similar interactions with the First Officer. Yet it hadn't happened that way, and the reason for the differences eluded Spock for several days until he stumbled, quite accidentally, across the answer.

The mess hall was almost entirely empty. A few stragglers were just finishing their dinners, probably before either heading to their quarters or going back to complete the last of their assignments for the night. Spock preferred eating in this atmosphere. The quiet allowed him to focus on his upcoming tasks, which he often put in order of importance and when each job should be completed by. Although the schedule was basically the same every day, Spock believed he should keep on top of things due to his position. So it had become a habit of his to take a late dinner when he worked a night shift in order to contemplate his schedule in relative silence. No one ever bothered him, which worked exceedingly well for his purposes.

"Mind if I join you?"

Spock looked up to find Sulu standing next to the table, holding a tray. "Of course," he said, gesturing to an empty seat.

"Thanks," Sulu said, smiling. "I hate eating alone."

"I see," Spock replied.

Sulu sat down and began eating, doing so in a polite fashion that was the exact opposite of how most of the crew members ate. Spock was immediately relieved and continued eating, wondering what if he would have to engage in small talk. The idea of small talk was fine in theory, but in practice it was quite odd. There was no actual weather in space, the concept of a favorite food or color or sports team eluded him, and there were very few aspects of any of the crew members lives which Spock was not informed on.

"Do you usually eat this late?" Sulu asked.

"Yes, quite often," Spock replied. "I find it relaxing to eat with no distractions."

Sulu looked at Spock for a second before saying, "Would you rather I left?"

"I apologize. I did not mean to imply that I do not enjoy your company," Spock said. This is what happened when he tried small talk. He should be banned from all forms of social interaction. "I simply meant that the mess hall is often loud, which is not an environment I prefer to eat in."

"Well, that makes sense," Sulu said. "It can get pretty rowdy in here. Although, personally, noise doesn't bother me."

"I see," Spock said. He took another forkful of his dinner, hoping the conversation would continue without any input from him.

"So then, you tend to eat alone?" Sulu asked.

Spock thought for a moment before replying, "I believe this is the first time I have not eaten a meal alone since our voyage began."

Sulu's eyebrows rose. "Really? Wow."

"Is that surprising?" Spock asked.

"Well, I would have thought you and the Captain would eat together sometimes," Sulu replied. "You're always talking to each other, so I just assumed you ate together as well."

"Your assumption was logical," Spock said. "However, Captain Kirk and I have slightly different schedules. Our shifts begin and end at different times, although they do overlap for the majority of the day."

"Oh," Sulu said, frowning. "And there's no one else you'd like to eat with?"

Spock tilted his head. "I have no particular wish to share a meal with anyone, although doing so is equally satisfactory to me."

Sulu shook his head once, lightly, and continued, "I'd hoped this wouldn't happen." He sighed and dug his fork into his mashed potatoes rather forcefully. "Well, if you give it some more time, I'm sure they won't keep avoiding you."

"I do not understand," Spock said, yet again wishing that humans would simply say what they mean and not use implications all the time.

"You don't?" Sulu asked, frown deepening. "Then never mind." At Spock's pointed look, Sulu nodded and held up a hand. "All right. I only meant that I thought the crew would have started to warm up to you by now. They've already grown friendly with Captain Kirk, and I'd hoped the same thing would happen with you."

"Captain Kirk is a very sociable, engaging man," Spock said. "It makes sense why the crew would become attached to him." Although, in truth, Spock had wondered the exact same thing, he didn't feel it would be wise to say that.

"Yeah, of course, the Captain's great," Sulu agreed. "But I think it's not fair for the crew to treat you differently just because…" He trailed off, waving a hand. "It doesn't matter. I'm sure it'll pass." Spock sighed and stared at Sulu for a few seconds. "Just because of your situation," Sulu grudgingly finished.

"I still do not understand," Spock said. "What do you mean by ‘my situation'?"

Sulu took a minute to eat some more, and Spock waited patiently, allowing him the time to gather his thoughts. "Well, of course people don't want to upset you. They're still acting careful due to the Vulcan Massacre." Sulu paused, looking at Spock to gauge his reaction, before continuing. "The crew doesn't know how to act around you. You _are_ part Vulcan. Your self-control is admirable, but the crew doesn't know how to approach you."

Spock considered his words carefully. He had known that humans relied on their emotions for interaction, but for some reason it had never occurred to him that his desire to control his emotions would cause the crew to view him as unapproachable. Didn't humans realize Vulcans had the same emotions they did? Spock assumed they must. The idea that the crew assumed him to be completely without emotions was a somewhat terrible thought.

"Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention," Spock said. "I had no idea the crew felt this way."

Sulu shrugged. "Not everyone does. But Vulcans have that reputation." He shook his head. "You'd think people would learn their lessons by this point. It _is_ the twenty-third century." Sulu took a long drink, placing his cup gently back down on the table. "But prejudice still exists. I'm beginning to think it might always exist, no matter how many times it's proved wrong."

"Humans are a species filled with suspicion of the unknown," Spock replied. "It is unfortunate they have not yet found a way to counter that flaw."

Sulu nodded, taking another bite to eat. "I doubt humans will ever be as controlled as Vulcans. We've had long enough now to try and get there."

"I must agree with you," Spock stated. "However, I was under the impression that humans prided themselves on their emotions."

"Oh, we do," Sulu said. "That doesn't mean they can't be a problem."

"Vulcans also have trouble with their emotions," Spock said. "That is why we discipline ourselves to overcome them."

"I've heard that," Sulu replied. "Even if I hadn't, I would have guessed." At Spock's inquiring glance, Sulu continued, "Well, you _did_ attack Captain Kirk on the bridge. He goaded you into it, but I wouldn't exactly call your reaction unemotional."

"Indeed, no," Spock agreed. He finished eating and put his utensils on his plate, ready to start his night shift, although now with something else entirely on his mind. "This conversation was incredibly enlightening."

"Thanks?" Sulu said, his tone indicating it was a half-question. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Spock."

"Yes, Mr. Sulu," Spock replied.

Spock walked to the bridge at a steady pace, but his mind was racing. Although he had made a commitment to live among humans and try to be more human, he knew he would never be comfortable showing emotion at the level humans did. Even around Jim, Spock felt constrained, knowing there was only so much he could say or do and still feel comfortable with. It appeared he had unintentionally cornered himself—either he showed more emotion to his discomfort in order to have a better relationship with the crew, or he showed the amount of emotion he was comfortable with showing and risked ostracizing himself from the majority of the ship's inhabitants. Spock recalled what it was like to be an outcast quite easily. He had no desire to repeat the experience. Yet he also knew it would be unwise to commit himself to doing anything he felt uncomfortable with. There should be a middle ground. Some kind of compromise had to exist. He only needed to think of it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part took longer to get out for three reasons: 1. I've been watching TOS every night to get through it, 2. I've been working on other fic, and 3. Uhura is the hardest character for me to write (so whenever she's in a scene, you can just assume it took me way too long to figure out what she does). I don't want to vilify Uhura, but I equally don't want to make her OOC, and she is very stubborn, intelligent, confident, and focused in XI. It comes across as being bitchy in fic, no matter how hard I try to make her not so bitchy. *le sigh* Also, I keep on writing later parts! *headdesk* But hopefully I'll be getting out at least one chapter a week--that's the goal, anyway. And a question! I need an idea for a mission. I've got a few planned already, but there's space for at least one that I haven't thought of anything for yet. Someone had mentioned they were wondering if I was going to do any TOS eps in here, and I thought if anyone had any plot lines they'd like to see XI-style or else another mission-esque thing they'd like to see happen, just comment with it! Doesn't mean I'll do it, but whatever idea catches my fancy will probably happen. :P Finally: you may or may not be happy to know this fic has over 50,000 words written, and it's not even half-way yet. I could've done this for a Big Bang, lol. \o/ I need a new summary, I hate the one I have. Ideas? **OMG, LONG!A/N IS LONG.**

There was something incredibly entertaining about the idea of Uhura being attracted to Spock, and Jim reminded himself of that every time he saw them together and felt slightly nauseous. He remembered the first time he had seen them together—in the transporter room, when Uhura had kissed Spock without even a second thought to the fact that Jim had been _right there_ , watching them. It had been so disconcerting, so completely out of the blue, that Jim could only stare at them in shock. He had noticed how Uhura had been totally involved in the kiss and that Spock had been… well, _not_. Jim had never had a problem before with public displays of affection, but for some reason that one kiss had really gotten to him.

Not that Jim though badly of either of them. Uhura was an incredible person—smart, caring, witty, and quite simply amazing to look at. Spock was… well, Spock. There were no words to describe him that Jim could come up with, although he figured he might be able to wave his hands around for a while to indicate the level of frustration and tension that went along with everything Spock entailed. There was absolutely no reason why Uhura should want to be with someone like Spock, especially when she had so clearly _not_ wanted to be with Jim. It was odd, really, that a woman would reject him continuously for so long only to end up with the exact opposite sort of man she should be with. Uhura needed a man who could appreciate her and, given that disastrous kiss, Jim was quite sure Spock wasn't that man. Actually, Jim was also sure he himself wasn't that man either, so it ended up that Jim decided Uhura should just give up on Spock and find someone else entirely to try for.

Not that Spock was a bad choice. Actually, Jim figured Spock would be an amazing person to be with. He was conscientious, courteous, kind, and incredibly unselfish. He was intelligent, which allowed for great in-depth discussions about basically anything, but also equally aware that sometimes people were just irrational and wanted to do stupid things for no reason whatsoever. He didn't say too much against those acts of stupidity, even if his raised eyebrow spoke volumes. Plus, his dry humor was so entertaining that Jim found himself looking forward to their next round of verbal sparring almost immediately after their last had ended. He was good in a crisis and could be counted on in a fight, he had a clear sense of morals and knew the value of life, and he held himself accountable for all of his actions. Besides that there was an air about him that suggested a superiority complex, yet whenever he was spoken to he would always treat everyone equally. Also, Jim had eyes and it wasn't like he could miss that Spock was attractive. He had a regal figure and an appealing face, with eyes that were as dark and mysterious as the rest of him. And, if Jim was being honest, those pointy ears were interesting enough to provide hours of entertainment. Plus, he could easily recall those hands attacking him, one wrapped around his throat, and the strength in them was unexpected and incredibly hot. Jim could imagine what those hands could do, if Spock allowed them to.

Not that Jim imagined anything of the sort. Because he didn't. At least, not any more than he imagined getting with everyone else. But, in all fairness to Spock, the reason Uhura and him weren't a good match was not because of any faults on Spock's side. It was just that Jim couldn't see them working together. He knew Spock wasn't really into her, and she seemed to quite easily ignore that because she believed she could eventually win him over. What Uhura didn't seem to grasp yet was that Spock wasn't the kind of guy a person could win over. People either had a connection with him or they didn't. Jim had known he and Spock had a connection the first time they had met, when Spock had stood up and called him a cheater. At the time, Jim had thought his feelings were that intense because of the situation, but now he could tell it was a sign of how much he would come to enjoy the other man's company and friendship. For some reason, Jim doubted Uhura had felt much of anything at all the first time she had seen Spock, probably in one of her linguistics classes.

As far as Jim was concerned, the longer their relationship went on, the harder it was going to be for everyone involved. It was technically none of his business, but he hated seeing two people he knew so well get messed up over something like this. Of course, he never intended to say this to her, ever. As far as Jim was concerned, Uhura would never know his thoughts on the matter of her decision to date Spock. Anyway, it wasn't like anything he said would make a difference. Spock had already confided in him, and Uhura would never listen to his advice. Ever. The Enterprise could be on the verge of destruction, Jim could have ordered everyone to evacuate, and she would still be at her station, translating messages and gathering information until she either died or was dragged out. In any other situation besides her current one, that attitude was admirable.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few days after his physical and still wary of McCoy jumping out at him with a needle and a determined look in his eyes, Jim walked into the lift only for Uhura to follow him in. Just seconds into the lift's descent, Uhura pressed the stop button and Jim eyed her nervously, reminding himself that he was the captain and she really couldn't get away with doing anything to him. Probably.

"What are you doing?" Uhura asked, and Jim raised an eyebrow and smirked at her.

"Funny, that's my question." He gestured briefly at the stop button. "If you've finally accepted your feelings for me, there's easier ways to let me know."

Uhura glared at him. "Funny. And here I thought it was _you_ who couldn't get over _me_."

Jim laughed, unable to stop himself or control it even a little, and her glare darkened. " _Excuse me_?" he asked, still grinning. "Sorry, honey, but you're not _that_ hot." She kind of was, but he wasn't about to tell her that.

"Don't call me honey," she said.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Yeah, fine. And I was never into you anyway."

"You weren't?" she asked, and the glare lessened to be replaced by clear disbelief.

"No, I wasn't," Jim said, speaking slowly. "It was just a bit of flirting, everyone does it. I kept doing it because you were so against it. It was funny, that's all. No big deal." He shrugged. "Can we go now? I'm an important person, you know. I've got work to do."

"If you didn't like me, then why are you acting this way?"

"What way?"

Uhura sighed. "You know what I'm talking about."

"No, I really—"

"Every time you see Spock and me together, you glare at us," she said. "And sometimes you look kind of ill."

"I do not," Jim said, scoffing.

"You do," she said. "Every time."

"Well, if I did, which I don't, it's nothing to do with you, so don't worry about that," Jim said. He quickly realized he was going to be stuck in the lift all day if he didn't tell Uhura something, so he figured he may as well say what he really thought. "I just don't think you and Spock make a good match. That's all. It's nothing personal." Uhura looked at him for a long minute, long enough that Jim felt his body tense up. "What?" he finally asked. "I already told you what you wanted to know. Say what you want or let me out of this damn lift."

Uhura stared at Jim for a moment, her annoyed expression slowly transforming into a scowl. "I can't believe you," she muttered. "What are you saying, that Spock's too _good_ for me? That I'm not _good enough_ for him?"

"No," Jim protested, already wishing there would be no consequences if he just pulled rank and was done with it. But he knew Uhura, and he knew she'd find a way to get back at him for it. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what _did_ you mean?" she asked, crossing her arms and waiting for his answer.

"I…," Jim trailed off, unsure what he should say. "I just meant that you and Spock don't really work well together. You just don't strike me as people who mesh together, okay?"

"‘People who mesh together?'" Uhura repeated, scoffing. "What does that even mean?"

"It means I just think you could find somebody better to be with than Spock," Jim said, throwing his hands up in frustration.

Uhura narrowed her eyes. "So you've got a problem with Spock, then?"

"What?" Jim asked, shaking his head. "No, of course not, Spock's great."

"So what did you mean, somebody better than Spock?" She titled her head at him in a small, unspoken challenge.

"I meant somebody better for you, you know, someone who…" Jim hesitated, now wishing he could erase the last five minutes of this conversation entirely.

"Who what?" Uhura pressed. "Someone who _what_?"

Jim licked his lips, wondering what he could possibly say that would get him out of this situation. He wouldn't betray the confidence Spock had placed in him when they had spoken about Spock's distinct lack of feelings for his girlfriend. Even though Spock had not asked him to keep quiet about it, there was a level of trust Jim placed in his friendships that he would never betray. Jim firmly believed that when friends spoke to one another, those conversations were meant for each other alone, especially when they dealt with personal issues. If they had been talking about their opinions on music or the latest gossip, Jim would have no problem passing those thoughts along, although the very idea of Spock having an opinion on music or the latest gossip was somehow so hilarious Jim had to laugh. He stifled it quickly, but of course it was too late.

Uhura glared at him. "What's so funny?"

Jim sighed. "Nothing. Nothing's funny." Before Uhura could respond, he continued, "Look, it's just my own opinion, all right? It's got nothing to do with anything, really. Feel free to ignore me."

Uhura lifted her finger and pressed the start button, which caused the lift to move again, pleasing Jim to no end. "I will," she said, shortly. "It's just that I wish you wouldn't be this way." She shrugged. "I know you and Spock are friends. I don't want him to feel like he has to choose between us." Jim had no idea what to say to that, so he kept silent. "I think it's better for him to have more people around right now, anyway."

"I agree," Jim stated.

"Well," Uhura said, pausing uncertainly. "Good." In another two seconds the lift stopped at the next floor and she stepped off it. "And Spock and I make a great couple."

"Oh, really?" Jim replied.

"We understand each other intellectually," Uhura said, looking supremely confident in her analysis of the situation. "Then again, you wouldn't know the first thing about _that_ , would you?"

Jim grinned. "You know me. If it's more complicated than eat, sleep, or fuck, I'm lost."

Uhura rolled her eyes. "Truly, it was a great day for the Federation when they made _you_ a Captain."

The door closed, leaving just enough time for Jim to reply, "Yep," before the lift moved away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spock did not approve of spending their free time on the same planets they were visiting for diplomatic purposes. It seemed contrary in every way to speak with the political leaders of the world during the day and visit the bars and nightclubs, or whatever locations the planet had that were a suitable equivalent, at night. Spock knew that the vast majority of planets accepted their presence and welcomed them. In fact, most people they visited believed the crew of the Enterprise was learning about the culture of the world and how to interact with the citizens there. It was an excellent excuse, and one he was sure Jim would use many times in the future, regardless of the fact that it was an obvious lie.

They were all in one such location now. The current world's inhabitants were quite friendly, which pleased Spock to no end. Attempting to maintain good diplomatic relations with the races who were immediately distrustful of outsiders was always cause for distress. This race was kind and entertaining, providing the ship's crew with food from various regions across the planet as well as jokes and explanations about why they were funny when the crew didn't understand the punch lines.

Sulu had stayed on the bridge. It was his turn to monitor everything while almost everyone else had fun. Scotty had stayed behind just in case, but he hadn't complained as much as he usually did about this. A few of the night crew had volunteered to stay and take an extra shift as well, which allowed more people to visit this planet than usual. Spock knew the crew had such a strong desire to visit the friendly natives here because the last three planets they had come across had all been either deserted or the natives had simply been uninterested in entertaining travelers.

So it was truly no surprise to see the crew acting in ways that clearly conflicted with Starfleet regulations. Spock wasn't pleased to watch the crew behaving with such recklessness, but this was something he had learned about humans very early into his career. They would entertain themselves first and foremost, caring the most for their own happiness and pleasure. It was a trait Spock did not fully understand, but he was beginning to learn to expect it.

Still, watching Jim behave like an idiot was setting Spock's teeth on edge. There really was no point to flirting with these beings since they were clearly biologically incompatible with humans. They possessed five limbs which they either used to balance themselves or to hold objects or touch one another, and shooting upwards from the center of their limbs was one column of flesh which split into two heads. Spock knew there was absolutely no chance Jim would engage in sexual acts with any of them. Unfortunately, that knowledge only made the Captain's flirting even more intolerable. Spock did not understand the constant need Jim had to have intercourse. It was a biological imperative and as such should not be ignored, yet Jim seemed to be more focused on sex than any of the other humans Spock had met.

It really was quite annoying.

"Hey, Spock." That accent could only have belonged to one person, and Spock was unsurprised when Chekov took a seat at the otherwise empty table Spock had been sitting at. "This is some place, yeah?"

Spock inclined his head. "Indeed."

"You should have a drink or something," Chekov continued. "Who knows when we'll be able to have time off the ship again?"

"Alcohol does not affect my body the way it affects yours," Spock said in a monotone. He couldn't help but look over at Jim again, watch the way he was flirting with incompatible life forms and consuming large quantities of liquor, and inwardly scowl. "However, if alcoholic beverages produced the same physiological effects on my body as they do on humans, I would not wish to drink them in order to avoid publically humiliating myself."

Chekov blinked and looked suitably impressed. "Wow," he said. "That's some logic." Then he turned around to follow Spock's gaze and laughed. "Oh, Captain Kirk?" Chekov faced Spock again and waved a hand dismissively. "You can't base your logic off _him_. I doubt he's had half as much as the rest of us."

"His behavior would suggest otherwise," Spock replied, feeling oddly argumentative. It really shouldn't matter what Jim's behavior was like, except that it reflected poorly on their crew. As First Officer, it was part of Spock's job to ensure the well-being of the crew. Surely this fell under that category.

Chekov snorted. "The Captain? He behaves like this all the time." He peered closer at Spock and then bit his lower lip. "You do know he always flirts? That it doesn't mean anything?"

"The Captain's personal life is of no consequence to me," Spock replied.

"Of course, yeah, you're right," Chekov hurried to agree. "But you seem…"

Spock raised one eyebrow in a high arch. "I seem what?"

Chekov shook his head and waved his hands in front of him. "No, nothing, never mind." He shrugged. "I'm sure it's just me." He chuckled. " _Really_ sure."

"Mind if I join you?"

Spock looked over at Uhura, who strode up to them and pulled out an empty chair. She sat in it and put her glass on the table, filled with a blue liquid that seemed highly questionable in content. She was sitting at an angle that blocked Jim from Spock's view, but quickly Spock realized this was a good thing. He would be spared having to witness his Captain's idiocy any further.

"Uhura," Chekov greeted, lifting his own drink. She lifted hers and they clinked their glasses together before taking a few swallows each. "Where have you been?"

"There were a few messages I had to translate before I could get down here," she said, sighing. "A xenolinguist's work is never done. You know how it is."

"Yeah. Well, no, not exactly, but in principle, yeah." Chekov smiled. "But you're here now."

"I'm here now," Uhura repeated. "And I hope you've kept my boyfriend entertained." She looked at Spock and titled her head towards him. "Is this guy bothering you?" she asked, smiling to show that she was teasing him.

"No," Spock answered. He moved his head slightly over to see Jim looking in his direction. The Captain raised one hand in greeting, but Spock only turned his head to look at Uhura once more. "I have been engaging in conversation with Ensign Chekov. It has not been bothersome."

"Boyfriend?" Chekov repeated, after a slight pause that followed Spock's response. "But I thought…"

"Hm?" Uhura asked, looking at him with a small smile. "What?"

"Never mind, it doesn't matter," Chekov said, laughing. He seemed more embarrassed than he should have been. "Enjoy yourselves." He left the table, clutching his drink and looking for other crew members to speak with.

Uhura shook her head and shrugged. "Who knows what that was about."

Spock remained silent, recognizing the half-statement half-question as being rhetorical and therefore not requiring an answer. He was slowly understanding the patterns in human speech, which were much more complex than they at first appeared to be. One day he hoped to be able to master the language's intricacies, but for now he contented himself with the occasional insight.

"So," Uhura continued, once it became clear Spock was not planning on starting a conversation. "How are you?"

"I am as well as can be expected," Spock replied. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Uhura said. "And glad we're off the ship for a bit."

"It is nice to have free time," Spock said. He looked towards Jim again, and the Captain was staring at him, holding up a hand and obviously attempting to get his attention. Spock looked towards Uhura, ignoring Jim for the second time.

She waited a few seconds before smiling at Spock and asking, "Want to dance?"

Spock stared at her. "No," he stated.

"Oh." Uhura pursed her lips and nodded once. "Okay. I just thought it might be fun."

"I have no desire to dance," Spock repeated.

"All right, that's fine," Uhura said, tone light and still upbeat. "What do you want to do, then?"

"I have no particular interest at this time," Spock stated.

"Spock!" Jim shouted, walking over to their table with no warning. Uhura narrowed her eyes at him, clearly frustrated by his sudden presence, but Spock only gave him a brief reprimanding look complete with raised eyebrow. "That was cold," Jim said, sliding into the seat next to Spock with the grace that came naturally to him. "Really cold."

"If you expect me to understand the meaning of that statement, you are mistaken," Spock replied, looking towards the bar and the seat Jim used to occupy. "My studies of English have yet to include inebriated ramblings."

"Ouch," Jim said, putting a hand over his heart dramatically. "That hurt me, Spock. _Inside_."

"We're trying to have a conversation here," Uhura said, sighing. "Even you should be able to figure that out."

Jim and Spock both frowned, although no one noticed Spock's since it was gone almost instantaneously. "Ah, come on," Jim griped. "Chekov was just here."

"The difference," Uhura started, pausing mid-way through her sentence for dramatic effect, "is that I actually _like_ Chekov."

"She doesn't like me," Jim said, whispering loudly to Spock. "Your girlfriend has a problem with me."

"I was unaware you harbored negative feelings towards Captain Kirk," Spock said, directing his comment and stare at Uhura.

Uhura blushed. "Ah, um, no," she said, too quickly. "I like him well enough. I mean, you know, we get along."

"We do?" Jim asked. Uhura glared at him and he quickly said, "We do. Yes. We do. Get along. That's what we do."

"Shut up now," Uhura said, kicking Jim under the table.

"Okay," Jim replied. He grinned at her, practically dripping with satisfaction. "See? We get along," he said. "Told you it could happen."

"When?" Uhura asked. "When did you tell me we could get along?"

"In my head," Jim responded. "When I was trying to convince you not to kill me."

"I do not understand," Spock said.

"That makes two of us," Uhura replied. "Look, _Captain_ , if you don't mind, we're just trying to have some time together." When Jim didn't move to leave, she added, " _Alone_."

Jim sighed. "All right, all right," he said. "I'll leave you to it." He raised his drink to them and took a long swallow before pivoting on the balls of his feet and marching off back to the bar.

Spock watched him go for a few seconds before he looked at Uhura. "Why did you ask Captain Kirk to leave?"

"Hm?" Uhura asked, looking at Spock blankly. "Because I thought we could spend some time alone together?"

"You did not ask Ensign Chekov to leave," Spock pointed out.

"Yeah, but Chekov knew to leave when I got here. _Kirk_ ," Uhura said, pausing to shake her head slowly, "would have just sat here without giving us any consideration at all."

"I do not mind Captain Kirk's company," Spock replied. "I do not understand why you wanted him to leave."

Uhura looked at Spock for a moment before smiling. "I wanted to spend some time with you. You know, just the two of us. Like I said before." She shrugged. "This is the first time we've been off the ship together since we left Earth. I thought it would be nice."

"This is also the first opportunity I have had to spent time with Captain Kirk off of the Enterprise since we left Earth," Spock pointed out.

Uhura rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but you're not _dating_ him, are you?"

"No, I am not." Spock gave her answer a moment's thought before he continued, "Is it a human tradition to only spend free time with a romantic partner?"

"Of course not," Uhura said. "Why would you think that?"

"Then I am afraid I still do not understand why it is unacceptable to spend time with Captain Kirk while we are off of the Enterprise," Spock stated.

"It's not—," Uhura said, cutting herself off quickly. "Listen. Spock. You can choose who you want to spend your time with. I just thought that we should hang out for a while since we're dating. And usually, people prefer to spend time with who they're dating when they go out like this."

Spock considered this, briefly. "I understand your point. However, your answer does not explain why it was acceptable to speak with Ensign Chekov and not with Captain Kirk." Uhura groaned. "I apologize for my confusion. I fail to see the difference between them."

"The difference is that Kirk's annoying as shit," Uhura said, immediately grumpy. "He's a pain in the ass to deal with. Seriously, Spock, I don't understand how you can be friends with him."

"Captain Kirk does have a strong personality," Spock replied.

"You think?" Uhura asked, sarcasm dripping off her tongue.

"However I believe that only adds to his appeal," Spock said.

"His appeal," Uhura said, monotone.

"Indeed. His positive attitude makes him an admirable Captain and a worthwhile friend," Spock stated. "I believe your negative feelings towards him are unfounded."

"You say that now," Uhura said, blandly. "Wait until he starts flirting with _you_. Then see how you like his attitude."

Spock raised one eyebrow. "I highly doubt Captain Kirk will engage me in the human practice of flirting."

"Kirk flirts with anything that moves, and most of them can't form coherent sentences." Uhura paused. "And plenty of things that don't move, come to think of it." She laughed and smiled at Spock, clearly amused. "If you think you're getting out of it just because you're taken, think again."

"As I said, I highly doubt—"

Uhura cut him off. "He probably already has. You just didn't realize." Spock remained silent, wondering if that could be true. "Look, forget it. It doesn't matter. He's not being serious, anyway. It's just that's what irritates me about him, you know? He flaunts it so much. God, I can't _stand_ that."

"I see," Spock replied. He didn't, though. Not really. The idea of anyone not liking Jim was so completely foreign to Spock that he couldn't even form a base to understand the concept on. Yes, he could agree with Uhura that Jim's flirtatious nature could be annoying, but that didn't mean every aspect of him was equally so. 

"Look, let's not talk about Kirk anymore," Uhura said. "We have to deal with him all the time. When we're off-ship, let's just enjoy ourselves, all right?"

Spock looked over at Jim, who was back at the bar and making a complete spectacle of himself. He was flirting with another of the aliens, one hand holding a glass of some orange liquid and the other hand gesticulating wildly in the air. If it was true that Jim was not serious when he flirted, then Spock had no idea why he would continue to do so. Human nature was still troubling more often than not.

"Yes," Spock said after a few seconds had passed. "We should take this opportunity to entertain ourselves."

"Exactly," Uhura said, smiling. " _Exactly_."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first time Uhura kissed him, less than an hour after he had reached helplessly out to catch his mother only for his fingers to meet empty air, Spock didn't even think about what she was doing. His mind was so completely focused on his outstretched hand and the image of his mother falling, even as the thin lines of light began to appear around her, haunted him. He could see her face, clearly, looking at him with all the love and acceptance no one else had ever been able to give him. She seemed to say _I understand_ or perhaps _I forgive you_ or maybe a simple _good-bye_.

When Uhura asked him what he needed, he had been honest. The only thing he had wanted—the only thing he had _needed_ —was for the crew to continue to perform admirably. If everything had gone the way it should have, he would have led the Enterprise towards eventual revenge. The crew would have suspected, but no one would have had the nerve to say anything to him because at that point Jim had already been marooned on Delta Vega and he was the only one who ever said anything to Spock besides _yes, sir_ and his rank followed by a string of urgent life-threatening information. Spock would have led them all to their doom in a foolhardy quest to get revenge. He would have been too late to save Earth and an untold number of other planets, and he would never have known another option was available. His revenge would have killed them all, every member of the Federation, and the fact that even now no one knew that except Spock himself was disconcerting.

(Marooning Jim on Delta Vega was something Spock could envision becoming something of a joke between them in the future. When they were older and passably wiser, more comfortable with themselves and each other, maybe even with a closer friendship than they had now—that's when it would be funny. It would become a reminiscence, something to chuckle about when the situation was dire and people were dying or when everything was fine and they were simply bored. _Hey, Spock, hey, remember when you marooned me on Delta Vega?_ Jim's face would still be a mirror of all his emotions, so Spock knew his eyes would be lit up and his grin would crawl across his face as if it had all the time in the world to get where it wanted to be. _Yes._ That's all Spock would say, just that one word, and it would be enough. Jim would shake his head, still grinning because that expression lived on his face, had carved out a permanent space for itself so that Spock noticed when it was absent and wondered where it had gone. _There were monsters there, Spock. Monsters! You stuck me on an abandoned ice cube filled with man-eating monsters!_ Often that would be the end of the imaginary scenario. Spock couldn't picture what would come after that, what he would do with Jim's grin directed towards him, accusing him of something they should have both long forgotten. Sometimes, though, sometimes Spock imagined he would say more, maybe _You deserved it_ or the dishonest _I would do so again if the situation called for it._ Jim would laugh at that and Spock would watch him as he laughed. Sometimes he smiled.)

Kissing Uhura had been absolute last on Spock's list of concerns for the day. After Jim had saved them all with his illogical decision and Spock had some time to consider the events, he had to remind himself that humans were illogical creatures. Uhura had offered herself as consolation for the loss of Spock's mother, even though they both knew there could be no replacement. However, she did not want to replace who Spock had lost. Rather, Uhura wished to become someone important in her own right. Spock could not think too much on the subject because whenever he did, he was forced to conclude that beginning any relationship when he was under such duress was an intrinsically flawed idea. He had not been in a state of mind to consider what she was offering, and by the time he was she believed he had already accepted her.

Uhura was a truly magnificent person in many ways. However, Spock knew that she was simply a human with all the failings that implied. Uncontrollable emotion and illogical thought were what he should have expected. She began a romantic relationship while he was in mourning. While he was coping with an ending, she was creating a beginning. They were on different wavelengths, unable to connect at the same time no matter which frequency they tried. His unresponsive behavior towards her romantic initiatives only compelled her to take more forceful action. Spock wished he knew of a way to show her that her efforts, while appreciated in theory, were not welcome in practice. Jim would have been better at this. He was the one who knew how to handle women. However Uhura seemed to be a mystery to Jim as well, and Spock knew he would have to find his own way in this matter.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The worst disaster in all of Starfleet history occurred almost a month to the day from when the Enterprise had left Earth. Jim had been sitting in his chair, his comfortable, lovely chair, swiveling around in it as he was prone to do when bored. It was the perfect way to keep an eye on everybody on the bridge at once, and if he sometimes swiveled a little too fast, well, he was only trying to keep everyone on their toes. It wouldn't do for his crew to start thinking he wasn't paying attention to them. Jim was in mid-swivel, slowly moving past Uhura, eyeing her speculatively, when the entire ship shook, throwing him half off the chair with his legs sprawled haphazardly on the ground.

" _Report_ ," Jim snapped, quickly getting to his feet and looking around. It was then he realized that everyone else was still seated, looking at him with expressions ranging from anxious to amused. "What? I said _report_."

"Captain, there is no damage to the ship," Spock replied.

Jim took a moment to be thankful he had one officer on the bridge who would report when asked to, even if the report made no sense. "Then what—" Jim cut himself off as he pivoted around, looking at his chair with horror.

His chair—his beautiful, wonderful, marvelous chair—had broken at the base. The top of it was half-off, tilted and resting heavily against the floor. Jim stared at it for a few seconds, surveying the damage, his look of horror slowly being replaced by one of sadness.

"It appears your chair has collapsed," Spock stated, way too calmly given the gravity of the situation.

Uhura started laughing, and a few small giggles and chuckles followed soon after.

"Get maintenance down here right away," Jim said. "This is a _priority one_."

Uhura rolled her eyes and turned back to her station. "Maintenance, to the bridge, please. Maintenance, to the bridge."

" _Right away_ ," Jim hissed.

Uhura sighed. "Immediately," she added before switching off the microphone.

The maintenance crew member, named Hartford, was a middle-aged man who seemed more amused than concerned with the dire state of his chair. Jim would have to look into his record. He might be mentally unbalanced.

"Was it _sabotage_?!" Jim shouted. His hands twisted in the edges of his shirt and he paced nervously behind Hartford. "Is there a _traitor on board_?!"

"For the third time, it's not anyone's fault," Hartford said, sighing. "It will only take about an hour to fix."

"An _hour_?" Jim asked, horrified. "What am I supposed to do until _then_?"

"Try standing," Spock suggested. "I assume your feet work as well as your mouth does."

Chekov spluttered, coughing and smacking his chest a few times. "Sorry, excuse me," he said, gasping. "It's just… something…" He gestured wildly to his forehead. "In my throat." His eyes widened. "I didn't mean… my head! I meant _head_." He looked horrified. "No, that's not what I meant! I wasn't thinking about—it was a mistake! I swear! I don't know anything!"

Jim sighed. "Does anyone have any idea what he's saying?" There was utter and complete silence. "All right, that's great." He looked at Sulu. "Can you shut him up? Please?"

"I can _try_ , sir," Sulu said, getting up to stand next to Chekov supportively. He knelt next to Chekov and started making comforting noises. "It's okay. Don't worry, you're all right."

"But I—"

"Just, just don't worry," Sulu said, shushing Chekov. "Don't worry about it."

"Thanks. I've got more important matters to deal with," Jim said, looking back at his chair mournfully. "How can it be an accident? It had to have been intentional."

"I did inform you that constantly swiveling in the chair might cause the mechanism to collapse," Spock stated.

Jim stared at him. "Did you just say ‘I told you so'?"

"No," Spock replied. "I said that I had previously informed you that constantly swiveling—"

"You _did_ ," Jim said, shocked. "You said ‘I told you so'!"

Spock blinked once, slowly. "I did inform you."

Jim shook his head and looked back at Hartford. "I just don't get it," he said. "I mean, this is a new ship. The chair is _new_."

"Parts are often recycled from older ships," Hartford replied. He was lying on his back, doing something to the bottom of the chair that Jim assumed would end up with it fixed. "It's not uncommon for things to break, especially if they're used more than they're made for."

"That's pretty shoddy manufacturing, if you ask me," Jim said, frowning. He ignored the silence on the bridge, determined not to let his crew's silent mockery get to him. "It shouldn't just _break_ like that."

"Do you understand?" Hartford said, sighing. "It's on this metal bar. And there's this screw-like mechanism inside the bar. So if you keep on going around and around in the same direction very quickly, it can break."

Jim frowned. "I don't like it."

Hartford didn't reply. In just under an hour he was finished, during which time Jim had made life hell for everyone on the bridge by standing over each of their shoulders to scrutinize their work. As soon as the chair was fixed, Jim was at Hartford's side, arms crossed and inspecting the chair thoroughly.

"It will still swivel," Hartford said, anticipating Jim's question. "But you have to go easy on it. Too much pressure, and the whole thing'll fall apart."

"How much is too much?" Jim asked.

Hartford shrugged. "I don't know. It'll be fine for normal use."

"So what's _not_ normal use?"

Hartford paused and then said, "Captain, if you're swiveling fast enough so that your surroundings blur, that's not normal use. The chair can break if used that way. Sir."

Jim frowned. "I've never gone that fast." Uhura cleared her throat. "Oh, okay, _fine_ , maybe _one time_. But just the once!"

"If that's all, Captain?" Hartford asked, holding his tool box and looking like he would rather not be in the middle of an argument on the bridge.

"Yeah, that's all," Jim said. "Good work, Hartford."

"Thank you, sir."

Hartford left and the bridge went back to its normal routine. Chekov was relatively sane, or at least he wasn't muttering to himself any more, and Sulu only looked at him once every few minutes. Uhura was scanning various frequencies for any messages coming their way. Spock was… well, Jim wasn't ever exactly sure what Spock was doing. His First Officer actually was in charge of quite a lot, but he was absolutely sure that Spock was working on something equally important and boring.

Jim sat in his chair and moved it slightly, a few inches to the right. It swiveled smoothly. He immediately let out the breath he'd been holding, ready to take on whatever happened to fall their way in this section of the galaxy.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next time Uhura spoke to Spock alone was a few days after they had been in the bar. Spock hadn't had any particular reason to seek her out, so he simply hadn't. He had been thinking about a few other things—how to act more human, whether or not he should eventually visit New Vulcan since his alternate self was there, if there was a way to be more sociable with the crew, if he should mention to Jim that his obvious flirtations with everyone made both himself and Uhura uncomfortable, if it would be wise to take on another night shift since productivity was down during those hours—and for some reason, his relationship with Uhura had not made it onto his mental list of things to consider. They had agreed on six months, they had recently spent time together, and he saw no reason to think any more on it than that.

"Spock," Uhura called. Spock stopped and turned around, glancing back down the way he had just come from. "Got a minute?"

"Yes," Spock said.

"Can we talk?" Uhura asked.

"I was on my way to the bridge."

"It'll only take a minute."

This was one of those human expressions that Spock was learning. They were meant to induce the listener to comply with whatever was being said, even though the statement was false. Spock only knew this because the other two times Uhura had stated something "would only take a minute" had both lasted closer to ten minutes. Luckily, he was in no real rush to get to the bridge. There was no disaster waiting for him to take care of and he knew Jim had everything under control. It wouldn't do any harm for him to speak to Uhura. Spock nodded and Uhura smiled.

"Good, let's talk in here." She walked a bit further down the corridor until she reached one of the many recreation rooms in the ship. It was empty, which was no surprise given the time of day. Most people were directly in the middle of working right now.

Spock followed her in and sat in one of the chairs, waiting until she sat down across from him to speak. "What do you wish to speak about?"

Uhura folded her hands in front of her, lying them on the table. "Okay. I want to start by saying that I don't want to fight, and I'm not trying to attack or insult you."

"I understand," Spock said.

"It's just that…" Uhura trailed off, frowning. "When we agreed to try being together for six months, I thought it would be different."

"How so?" Spock asked.

"Well, you haven't really been acting like we're together," Uhura stated.

"I apologize," Spock replied. "I have no experience with human customs in this matter."

"No, no, it's not that," Uhura said, shaking her head once, forcefully. "I know you have different customs, and that's fine. I accept that."

Spock waited for her to continue. When she didn't, he said, "I do not understand what the problem is. Will you please explain?"

"The problem is," Uhura started, sighing. "I guess the problem is that I'd hoped you would open up to me." Spock looked at her, confused. "I mean that it seems like you're becoming closer to other people, and there's this distance between us that I can't seem to cross."

"I see," Spock replied. "However, I do not believe I am becoming closer to other people." In fact, although he didn't want to tell Uhura this, once Sulu had pointed it out he had noticed how far apart he really was from the rest of the crew. It was strange that Uhura and Sulu would have different opinions on this.

"Well, all right, not just other people," Uhura said, agreeing. "I meant Kirk. You seem like you're getting really… close to him."

"Captain Kirk and I are friends," Spock said. "It is quite natural in every culture for friends to become closer as they spend time together."

"Yes, but that's my point," Uhura said. "I mean, you're spending all your free time with Kirk. I feel like you should be spending some of that time with me."

"I see."

"Not all of it, of course not," Uhura quickly added. "I think it's great that you have a good friend. But, since we're dating, it's only logical that we spend time together. And if you spend all of your free time with him…"

"Then I have no free time left over to spend with you," Spock finished. "Yes, I see your point."

"Besides, you're getting…" Uhura sighed and looked at her hands. " _Really_ close to him."

"I am?" Spock asked, surprised.

"Yes, you are," Uhura stated. "Like at the memorial service—" She immediately cut herself off, looking guilty. "Sorry, never mind. I shouldn't—sorry."

"Please continue," Spock said. "I would appreciate knowing your concerns so I may address them."

Uhura swallowed, obviously nervous. "Okay. I guess that's fair." She looked at Spock and said, "Kirk was the only one you let near you. You practically ignored everybody else, myself included. But you talked to him, and…" She shrugged. "He made you feel better. I'm glad about that, don't get me wrong. But…"

"Yes?" Spock asked when Uhura had paused for long enough that it seemed like she wasn't going to finish her thought.

"I wanted to be the one to make you feel better," Uhura said. "It sounds childish, I know. But we are dating, after all, and I want to be the one you can rely on for things like that."

"I was grieving and unable to think clearly at that time," Spock said. "If I had—"

"No, you don't have to defend yourself," Uhura said. "Like I said, I'm happy you felt better. If it was Kirk who did it, well, that's how it goes sometimes." She bit her lower lip and then continued. "It's just that when we were at the bar, the same thing happened. I wanted to spend time with you, Kirk comes up, and suddenly all you want to do is talk about him."

"When you brought your irritation to my attention, I stopped talking about Captain Kirk," Spock replied.

"Yeah, I know," Uhura said. "But the point is that you wanted to keep talking about him. You were thinking about him. And we don't have that much time together, so when we _are_ together, I want you to think about _me_. Okay? Only me."

Spock took a moment to consider what Uhura had said. It was true that, in most romantic relationships, the people involved turned to each other for support during difficult times. It was equally true that those people thought about each other the most often and wanted to spend the most time with each other. However, Spock was not in that kind of relationship with Uhura. He had wanted to end their relationship, and she had convinced him into continuing it. Given that situation, it was completely illogical for her to expect a similar reaction from him as she would have gotten from a person who was more invested in a relationship with her than he was. Unfortunately, it seemed as if saying that to Uhura would be an incredibly bad idea. She seemed to want Spock to pretend as though he truly wanted to be in this relationship, regardless of his own feelings on the matter.

"I cannot promise that I will be able to control my thoughts," Spock said. "Occasionally, thoughts come into my mind without any logical reason to be there. I believe it is similar for humans. However, I will make an effort to control my actions in order to spend more time with you."

Uhura nodded. "All right. That sounds fair to me."

"Then we are agreed," Spock replied. "Now I must get back to the bridge. Captain Kirk is waiting for me to return."

Uhura rolled her eyes, sighing. "All right. I'll meet you on the bridge in a few, then."

Spock got up and left the room, only noticing briefly from the corner of his eye as Uhura's forehead landed with a thump on the table.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just FYI, each chapter is meant to cover one week's time. I'm going to re-name each chapter accordingly, because I'm sick and tired of finding interesting ways to add the date in each scene. *headdesk* For those of you somewhat good at math, you'll notice that means there will be at least 24 chapters--one for each week during six months, y/y? I'm rounding, people. Sue me. Also, you might notice I've added bits of TOS canon in. Nothing major, so don't worry if you've only seen XI. But without good reason not to include some things, it seemed like certain events would have played out fairly similarly in the Abramsverse as in TOS. *shrugs*

The first time Jim realized he was attracted to Spock was when the Vulcan had him bent over backwards, attempting to strangle him. Jim knew he had asked for it. He knew it was important for some mysterious reason that Spock's command ended. And he in no way took any pleasure from bringing up the tragedies that he knew were still causing Spock pain. He had, however, taken plenty of pleasure from watching Spock's eyes narrow, his face contort, his breath come in short gasps, and his arm stretch quickly towards him powerfully, surely, with obvious intent. It was then that Jim knew Spock was damn hot, and he had no problems accepting that and moving on without acting on it. He hadn't realized it actually meant anything. God knew that Jim had more than his fair share of fantasies involving everyone he had ever met. He never acted on the vast majority of them.

When he had first met Uhura, in the bar before he had even seriously thought about joining Starfleet, Jim had her naked and writhing under him before he had even spoken to her. She was hot in a way that a lot of people didn't understand, which only made her even hotter. Strong women, chicks who knew what they wanted and took it, they were sexy as all shit. Jim could tell that was who she was even from watching her across the room. She walked confidently, smiled as though she didn't care who saw and judged her for it, and obviously she fit in with the bar crowd with no worries. Jim could see her, easily, both ordering him and begging him for it, and he was half-convinced it was a sure thing before he spoke to her and realized there was just no way.

He had met McCoy the next day, and damn, _damn_ , McCoy was a fine-looking man. Jim didn't mind imagining guys—it was only his imagination, after all, it didn't mean anything—and it was easy to imagine McCoy shirtless and wet—he'd be hotter wet, _everyone_ was hotter wet. His handshake had been firm, a grip so tight that Jim immediately wondered what it would be like when put to better use. Sure, his eyes had been kind of wild and all over the place, and he had been half-crazed from delusional worry about space diseases, but he pulled off the rugged thing so well that Jim had to give him credit. Then he had gotten to know McCoy, had gotten to respect him and value their friendship and even love him in a certain way, and suddenly it didn't matter how hot McCoy was because he had grown to be a lot more than his looks.

Admiral Pike had been another story entirely. He was older, sure, but that didn't mean he wasn't attractive in his own way. He had power—authority that came from knowing how to get what he wanted when he wanted it, along with the confidence to back it up. Jim could easily see how that would translate well, plus the fact that he was older meant he had more experience. He probably knew how to make it last and feel amazing the whole way, unlike some girls Jim had been with who thought lying there taking it was enough. Pike would be different. Still, when Jim thought of him, he remembered that he hadn't wanted to be pushed to his limits or challenged. He had wanted to lie around and do nothing his whole life. But Pike had forced him to be something more than he had ever thought he could be, and that had made him off-limits because he was the only person in Jim's life who had ever looked at him and seen more than a fuck-up.

Most people looked at him and thought he was only a fuck-up. Galia had been one of those people. She was hot and she knew it, which was often a turn-off for him, but girls from Orion were crazy in bed. That was all the convincing he needed. He would have gone all the way, too, even knowing she'd slept around probably more than he had, but then Uhura had interrupted them. It had probably been for the best. He knew he was never going to be more than a story she sometimes told when she was drunk, and at that point he was getting sick and tired of being that guy. But in his head, sure, why not, he went all the way with her. And all that sleeping around had paid off because damn. She'd been good.

Chekov was a weird one for Jim, and not just because of his accent. He was young, almost illegal young, but of course that didn't matter for his purposes. But no matter how hard he tried, Jim couldn't imagine Chekov as anything other than a virgin. He knew that at seventeen it could reasonably go either way, but for some reason Chekov's bright eager face had Jim thinking that he hadn't had a dirty thought in his life. Obviously that was impossible, but when he imagined it, he thought of Chekov's surprise at every new sensation, at his embarrassment turning slowly to delight. He could picture Chekov wriggling uncomfortably at first, unprepared and unsure, but eventually relaxing under Jim's careful and experienced guidance.

Now Scotty, he was fun. He was always over-excited, throwing his hands around and shouting randomly to anyone who would listen. There was a guy who would be a _great_ lay. That enthusiasm would be amazing to have, either way. In fact, Jim had a vivid image of Scotty riding him, thrusting himself repeatedly onto Jim, eagerly grabbing at Jim's face and hair and shoulders and daring him to do more and faster and better. He would be wild in bed, of that Jim had no doubt at all. Of course he was a talented engineer, and that just made Jim think that Scotty knew how things worked. He'd probably be able to invent a new position every time they tried. Plus, for some reason Jim couldn't get the image out of his head of Scotty screaming, "I'm giving it all I've got, Captain!" That alone would be worth it.

Jim had absolutely no control over where his mind went, which was really clear when he started thinking about Nero. The man was half-psychotic, a genocidal mass murderer, and Jim would never consider actually touching him. But, for the sake of argument, he figured that kind of rage and psychosis could be a-fucking-mazing in bed. Sure, it wasn't _morally_ appropriate, but that didn't seem to stop him from thinking about it. He had so much hate in him, so much anger and disappointment and frustration, Jim was sure the sex would be so rough it'd have to be called violent. He'd never actually had violent sex before, but he could see Nero chaining him up—he'd be naked, of course, otherwise what was the point, really—and fucking him senseless, fucking him _blind_ , making him scream and come without giving him a chance to do anything other than beg for more. Still, it was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Then there was Sulu. Sulu, who seemed so together and polite. It was instantaneous with him, for some reason. Without any trouble or preparation at all, Jim imagined Sulu coming hard, moaning and moving underneath him desperately, wantonly. Sulu was so quiet all the time, so tense and on alert, waiting for something to happen. Jim knew he could be that something. He could have Sulu begging for it in seconds, he just knew it. And no doubt he would make the most interesting sounds. Sulu was always focused on work, and he was good at his job, one of the best, but Jim knew all of that tension was bound to need release. Besides, everyone knew it was always the quiet ones who changed the most in bed. The most straight-laced, controlled people were the ones who really went to extremes when they let themselves go.

Of course, that thought led Jim back to the most straight-laced, controlled person he had ever met, and the mere thought of how wild and fucking _hot_ Spock would be forced Jim to have a lie down. More than any of the others, Jim thought Spock would be the best in bed. He was as confident and strong as Uhura, as hot and close to him (or getting there, anyway) as McCoy, as authoritative as Pike, as eager to learn as Chekov, as fun (in a different way, sure, but still) as Scotty, almost as filled with anger and frustration as Nero, and as self-possessed as Sulu. Plus, he wasn't anything at all like Galia. Spock was the perfect combination for amazing sex, and it was a fucking shame that Jim could imagine it but could never see it actually happening in reality.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Usually the gym was half-empty, since the majority of the crew preferred to relax after work rather than exercise. Still, Jim was used to having a few people around to spar with, and most of them were more than a little happy to have the opportunity to knock their Captain on his ass. Jim couldn't really blame them—if their positions were switched, he was sure he'd love the chance to one-up Admiral Pike or any of the board members.

Today, though, the gym was even emptier than usual. There were two guys from Engineering lifting weights, three girls practicing a variant of judo, and five other crew members in solo activities—running, biking, jumping rope, yoga, and what looked like a variant form of ancient Eastern meditation.

Jim had come in the hopes of working out some energy. He had felt restless all day for no reason he could pin down. Everyone had been working with more efficiency than they usually did, which would normally have been cause for excitement. But he had noticed Uhura staring at Spock a lot, more than she ever had before, and it got Jim thinking about the reasons _why_ she'd be staring at him so much, and all of those reasons had Jim feeling worried and cranky.

He knew he should be happy for his First Officer. Friends were supposed to be happy for each other when romantic shit worked out, weren't they? Of course they were. It was obvious. Yet Jim wasn't able to muster up any kind of positive feelings for Spock. The last he had heard, Spock hadn't really wanted to be involved with Uhura. But that had been a month ago. Things changed in a month. Maybe Spock had realized he had a good thing and didn't want to jeopardize it.

Jim walked up to the punching bag, which was thankfully unused at the moment, and reached for the pair of gloves that was next to it. He put them on, making sure his hands and fingers were protected before he started. The last thing he needed was a broken wrist from not taking the right precautions.

He had been working out for almost ten minutes when he first realized someone was watching him. He stopped, holding the punching bag for a moment to make sure it stopped and wouldn't hit him upside the head when he turned, and looked over to see Scotty standing there. Disappointment ran through him, sharp and instant, and Jim pushed it aside. Scotty was a good friend, too. There was no reason to be disappointed.

"Scotty," Jim said, nodding. "What's up?"

"Just thought you'd like to know that I found a way to increase her maximum speed," Scotty said in a highly self-congratulatory manner. "We can travel five parsecs in the time it used to take us to travel four."

"Sounds good," Jim replied. He walked over and gave Scotty a high-five. "That's why I keep you around."

"And the jokes," Scotty added. "Everyone loves the jokes."

"You know, not so much," Jim replied, grinning. "They get in the way of work. I think you're banned from joking from now on."

Scotty tilted his head, considering. "I'm not sure exactly where in the regulations it says you can't joke around."

"Oh, it's in there," Jim said. "Believe me. I've read the whole thing."

"I'm sure you have, sir," Scotty said. "That's why you're the Captain."

Jim shook his head, both amused at and proud of his Chief Engineer, and that little movement allowed him to see Spock, at the edge of his vision, in the far corner practicing some form of hand-to-hand Jim had never seen before. He was going through the motions slowly, each gesture practiced and refined, confident, powerful.

"When did he get here?" Jim asked, tilting his head towards Spock.

"Who, Spock?" Scotty asked. He shrugged. "Beats me. He was here when I got here."

"Oh," Jim said, floundering. It seemed incredibly hard to believe that Spock could have been here for a few minutes and Jim wouldn't have noticed him. For no reason at all, he felt as though he should have some kind of sixth sense about when Spock entered a room. There was a feeling the air got, a quiet comfort that only Spock gave off, and Jim had never failed to notice it before. It was ridiculous, of course. Spock was just a person like everybody else. There was no reason to expect him to stand out, even considering their friendship.

He wondered if Spock had seen him, when he had first entered. If he had, why hadn't he said anything? Had Jim seemed so focused that Spock hadn't wanted to bother him? Maybe. After all, he hadn't noticed Scotty when he had been standing right there. But that wasn't like Spock. Usually he would at least say hi or nod or make some kind of gesture that let Jim know he was there.

Maybe he had done something like that and Jim had been so intent on punching the damn bag that he hadn't noticed. Oh, God. That would suck. Then Jim would have to explain to Spock that he hadn't been ignoring him, that he hadn't even known he was there. But then Spock might take that like he wasn't important to Jim, and that was so not the case but Jim wasn't about to go trying to explain _that_. Especially since he didn't know exactly why Spock was important.

Except that he was kind of coming to a roundabout conclusion. Because he'd been watching Spock's hands move, and he was sure the movements were not meant to be as… interesting as they were. And yes, when he was concentrating like that, with his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted, Spock looked quite… interesting himself. Surely this was a Vulcan thing, something that Jim would love to ask him about but probably never would, because there was something otherworldly about his movements. They looked natural and yet choreographed, as though Spock was being guided by some unseen force.

Jim wanted to go over and talk to him, but he didn't want to interrupt whatever it was Spock was doing, and anyway he felt like the reason he wanted to go over wasn't a good one. He knew this feeling, had felt it plenty of other times in his life, and he swallowed thickly. When he was alone and letting his imagination go where it wanted, thinking about Spock and sex was one thing. When he was in public, it was entirely different. He wasn't supposed to get this... interested from simply watching Spock perform what was most likely Vulcan meditation or a physical ritual. It wasn't even like Spock was half-naked or wet or anything. He was fully clothed, in sweats and a long-sleeve cloth shirt, and it was obvious he looked pretty much how he normally did since nobody else was staring at him stupidly.

Plus, Spock was a guy. Jim didn't _do_ guys. At least, he thought he didn't. There'd been thoughts, of course. Who didn't have thoughts sometimes? But he'd never acted on them. He could joke about it, sure, why not? And he had no problem with it—as long as it was other people who were doing it. But he'd always remember his step-father's disapproval, and his own discomfort, and girls were just as hot as guys, if not more so. Why take the risk? What could be gained, from getting with a guy, that couldn't be had a thousand times easier with a chick?

There was no good reason to take that kind of chance. At all. So what if he sometimes thought about it? He sometimes thought about sex with _everybody_. It didn't have to mean anything. Besides, Spock was his First Officer and the best friend he'd made since McCoy. That made the whole idea ten thousand times worse. Things could go horribly wrong, and it wouldn't be worth it for a quick lay, no matter how hot Jim thought it could be.

On top of all that, there was the one most obvious factor. It was Spock. _Spock_. The man took everything seriously. He was a Vulcan—logical to a fault and compelled to push down his emotions at all times. Jim couldn't even begin to fathom just how bad of an idea it would be to try and get with Spock. He wouldn't be into experimenting. He wouldn't want to see how it was. He'd consider that beneath him, and actually Jim agreed. Spock was an actually decent guy, and not in a creepy way. He was too good a person to agree to a one-off with anyone, much less a superior officer.

So that was it, then. Jim's hormones would have to find someone else to focus on. Spock was off-limits in lots of ways, not the least of which being that he was already dating someone. Jim's mind stuttered, balked at the inclusion of "already," wondered why he'd thought of it in that particular way. It wasn't like he wanted to date Spock. Please. That would be ridiculous.

…Right?

A slap on his arm brought Jim back to Scotty, who was looking at him as if he'd gone insane. "What?" Jim asked, rubbing his arm.

"I've been talking to you for the past five minutes," Scotty said, rolling his eyes. "You didn't hear anything, did you?"

"Um… no?" Jim answered, sheepishly.

"Why don't you ever listen to me?" Scotty asked. "I might have important things to say, you know."

"Oh," Jim said, tensing up. "Was it important?"

"Well… no," Scotty admitted with a wave of his hand. "But it _could_ have been important! And that's the point."

"Yeah, okay, fine," Jim said, shaking his head. "I'll listen next time, okay?"

"Sure you will," Scotty replied. "So you want me to get him or what?"

"Huh?" Jim blinked, confused.

"Spock," Scotty explained. "You were just staring at him. You need to talk to him or not?"

"Oh," Jim said, laughing. "Um, yeah, no, I mean, it's okay, sure, you know what? Never mind."

Scotty nodded once, firmly. "Okay. I'm leaving now."

Jim gestured to the gym. "You sure you don't want to stay and work out for a while?"

Scotty glared at him. "I'll have you know I'm in great shape."

Jim grinned. "Hey, I'm just, you know, being a good friend. Letting you know when things get a little…" He trailed off, shaking his hand in the air and pursing his lips together, crinkling his nose.

"Oh, thanks," Scotty said. "Let's see who beams you up next time you end up on an arctic wasteland."

"It's love, Scotty," Jim said, sincerely. "It's all love."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spock had spent the afternoon meditating, which was both relaxing and rejuvenating. He had noticed Jim when he had first entered the gymnasium, but he had been thoroughly engaged in an exercise routine and Spock did not want to interrupt him. Besides, Spock had to make an effort not to think about Jim as much as he had been. Uhura had asked him to do so, and Spock did not want to give up without even making an attempt.

When he had left, Jim had been in the corridor immediately outside the door, which was strange considering Spock thought he would have already been back in his quarters by then. Jim had asked if Spock wanted to hang out that night, and Spock declined because he already had plans with Uhura. Jim had made allusions to hanging out another time and left.

Spock did not entirely understand the human concept of "hanging out". It was, apparently, meant to deepen social bonds by performing various types of activities, however occasionally it meant doing nothing while debating on what activity to do. It did not at all mean to literally hang from an object, which had mildly surprised Spock considering Jim's fondness for hanging from things. It was a term humans used frequently, though, and Spock had surmised that his presence was required whenever someone wished to "hang out" with him. This was one slang term he believed he had mastered, and he mentally congratulated himself for his skill in deducing the meaning behind the nonsensical phrase.

Uhura was currently sitting next to him in a recreation room. They were playing a card game that involved collecting similar groups of cards and then putting them down on the table for other players to add on to. It was very similar to many other card games Spock had encountered, and so although he had never played this particular version before, he believed he understood the rules and goal satisfactorily.

"Your turn," Uhura said. She had a habit of saying that any time Spock took more than twenty-two seconds deciding what he should do. It was quite annoying because Spock obviously knew it was his turn and he was clearly considering his options. Reminding him that it was his turn did nothing to assist in playing the game.

"One moment," Spock said, shortly. He eventually decided to add to Uhura's pile of 3's and then pick up two cards before adding to his own pile of 8's and placing down three Kings to start a new pile on his side.

"Shit," Uhura said, frowning at his move.

"Is there a problem?" Spock asked, hesitantly.

"No, it's just…" Uhura rolled her eyes. "I was going to start the Kings. Whatever. It doesn't matter."

"I see," Spock said. This was one of those human things that he wasn't sure how to deal with. Becoming upset during a game was somewhat common among humans, and Spock had to admit that he too often felt frustration when things didn't go his way. However, stating it using those words in that tone of voice was an obvious attempt, perhaps unintentional, to make Spock feel guilty about his actions. He had no desire to feel guilty over a game, but offering to take back his move would no doubt have Uhura protesting that she hadn't been complaining, although she clearly had.

In the same situation, Jim would probably have made a joke out of it. He might have gasped in over-embellished shock, jabbed a finger at Spock and told him he'd better be prepared for vengeance. He might also have clucked his tongue and eyed Spock daringly while he reached out and moved Spock's pile of Kings over to his own side of the table. Spock could imagine several ways Jim would have reacted to the exact same scenario, and they all had him feeling happily indulgent. They would all have encouraged the game to continue, only adding to the overall enjoyment of the experience. What Uhura had done, however, had taken Spock out of the game and made him feel unsatisfied with how it was progressing. Recreational activities should never produce negative feelings. If they did, they weren't performing their intended purpose of relieving stress.

Then Spock remembered he wasn't supposed to be thinking about Jim. He focused on the game once more just in time for Uhura to move impatiently beside him.

"Your turn."

Spock nodded and continued playing, this time with a different goal. He would try to make Uhura happy as opposed to winning. It didn't actually matter to him what the outcome of the game was. However, he had turned down an opportunity to spend time with Jim in order to be here, and if Uhura was not properly satisfied with the evening then his choice to spend his time with her as opposed to Jim would have been for nothing.

After a few more turns, during which time Uhura gained steadily in points while Spock lingered behind, Uhura began to seem unhappy. Spock couldn't figure out the reason behind her attitude, but without knowing the cause he decided the best plan was to continue his actions without change. When the game finally ended with Uhura as the victor, she put her hands on the table and looked at Spock with doubtful eyes.

"Did you throw the game?"

"I do not understand that expression," Spock said, carefully. He assumed she had not meant to ask if he had picked up the game and tossed it across the room. "Would you please rephrase the question?"

"Okay. Did you stop trying to win so that I could win?" Uhura asked. "Did you intentionally lose?"

"No, I did not intentionally lose," Spock said. He wanted to elaborate, to be honest and say that her attitude had caused him to stop trying to win. But he felt as though being honest with Uhura would cause her to get angry. If she became upset, then he would have really botched the intention behind spending time with her. Still, he wasn't particularly keen on lying, either. This was one of those times when Spock was glad humans occasionally asked several questions at once, assuming all the questions were synonymous when they actually were not.

"Really?" Uhura asked.

"I did not intentionally lose," Spock repeated.

"Good," Uhura replied, smiling. "I thought for sure you were letting me win." She shrugged. "Guess I'm just better at this game than you are."

"It would appear that way," Spock stated.

Uhura laughed, delighted. "Wow, beating you at a game that uses logic. That's something."

Spock had no answer to that, so he collected the cards, put them back in their box, and then put the game in the cabinet that contained all of the diversions the room offered.

"Shall I walk you back to your quarters?" Spock asked. It was the right thing to do, after all.

"Oh," Uhura said. "Um, I was kind of hoping that we could spend some more time together."

"I see," Spock said. He turned back to the cabinet. "What else would you like to play?"

"Oh. No," Uhura said, laughing nervously. "That's not what I meant."

"I do not understand," Spock said.

"Yeah, I can see that," Uhura replied. "I meant I was hoping we could spend time together tonight." She paused. "In my room. Or your room." Spock was silent. "It's just that we haven't actually done anything yet. It's been over a month. We haven't even kissed since those first two times."

"I was distracted by other events," Spock said. He did not want to specifically bring up bad memories, but he had no idea about how else to reply.

"I know," Uhura said. "That's why I haven't said anything. But, I mean, after a month, we should be doing _something_ , right?"

"Perhaps Vulcan culture differs more on this subject than I had originally thought," Spock stated. "I was taught there is no time limit on these matters."

"Well, no, of course not," Uhura agreed. "But most people become more intimate sooner than this."

"I am not most people," Spock said, slowly.

"No," Uhura said. "You're not." She shrugged. "All right. You win. We'll wait." Spock didn't reply, unsure how to respond to such a statement. "Will you walk me back to my room anyway?"

"Of course," Spock said. He walked out of the room with Uhura at his side, already worrying that this would become a frequent issue between them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In truth, sex was something Spock rarely thought about. It had been highly inappropriate to speak of intimate acts of any nature on Vulcan. Future bondmates were chosen by the child's parents at an early age, which ensured emotions would never play a part in the process. Yes, there were ways around that. Either of the intended bondmates could engage in kal-if-fee, or they could simply withhold themselves from the other during pon farr. They could mutually agree to part ways amicably and withdraw their claim on each other. They could protest their bonding either in front of a council or their parents. Of course, the very idea of protesting a bondmate was so outrageous to most Vulcans that it hardly ever occurred. Vulcans were notoriously stubborn and unwilling to show weakness. Indicating that you did not feel a connection with your intended bondmate showed both weakness and emotional instability. It simply wasn't done. At least, Spock could not remember the last time he had heard of any bondmates attempting to get out of their arrangement.

He himself had never attempted to get out of his arranged bond. Of course, he had never actually met T'Pring outside of the one time they had first been promised to each other, and she might well be dead along with everyone else Spock had known on Vulcan, outside of his father and the few remaining council members. For all he tried to care, Spock couldn't place any more importance on her life than on everyone else's. Eventually he would find out what had become of her, but it would be a long time before then. They had avoided each other, neither particularly interested in the other, and then he had left to join Starfleet. He hadn't thought of her since then, ever, not even in passing, just as he hadn't thought of her on Vulcan. Spock was Vulcan enough to know that he should show emotional attachment to anyone, but he was also human enough to become emotionally attached only to people he actually saw and interacted with. Overall, the entire bonding process was one he had resigned himself to long ago, and although he might eventually ask to be released from his bond (he was an outcast anyway, what further harm could it do him to attempt to find a better match), he would only do so if he found another person who was a suitable substitute for T'Pring.

Now, though, everything was different. With Vulcan destroyed, many of the survivors had lost their intended bondmates, and all of them had lost the ability to travel back to Vulcan during pon farr. They would find a way around this, he was sure, but it meant that the old traditions had to be abruptly discarded if their species was going to survive. Still, even with that knowledge, Spock was sure Vulcans would continue to reject their emotions. It was their way—it was _his_ way—and it was such a central part of their lives that he couldn't imagine it changing.

That was why he had never thought much about sex. Bonding with someone was more about finding a logical way of dealing with pon farr than entering an emotional relationship. Pon farr itself was shameful, an experience that every Vulcan dreaded going through. Spock had never been through it, most likely thanks to the human blood that filled half of his veins. He hoped he never would. It was regarded as the worst part of a Vulcan's life—when they lost all ability to reason, when logic meant nothing, when the most basic part of their instincts took over and forced them to behave like violent animals. It was never discussed, even among each other. The one and only time Vulcans spoke of pon farr was when they first entered it. Then, a parent would explain what was happening, briefly. Besides that, sex and every other form of physical intimacy were deeply discouraged. Speaking of it was forbidden, and actually showing affection in front of others was so anathema Spock felt sick from thinking about it.

So, thanks to Vulcan culture and the bonding process and pon farr, the idea of sexual orientation had never crossed Spock's mind. If he rarely thought about sex, then he never thought about his own preferences. Intercourse was meant for one purpose—ensuring survival. Either his own survival during pon farr (which, again, he had never been through but he had been taught about it by his father anyway, just in case) or else the survival of their species that came from creating a child. Feelings were not meant to be a part of the situation. No matter how intimate two people became, there was always an invisible line which separated what was acceptable behavior from what was overly emotional and unwanted. All Vulcans had emotions, and they all required emotional release at various times, but it was never as open and welcomed as it was within human society. Spock had seen this enough between his own parents to know it as fact. Emotions were tolerated because they had to be, but they were never enjoyed and they were never welcome in public situations.

This was why he had not appreciated when Uhura had kissed him in the transporter room, with Jim and Scotty right there, watching. In fact, it had disturbed him that she would be so open with affectionate displays. Living among humans had forced Spock to learn tolerance at such displays, but he had never believed he would participate in them. Physical affection, in all its forms, was meant to be private and cherished. It was not meant to be flaunted around for others to gawk at and make judgments upon. Spock knew this was also why he couldn't stand watching Jim flirt with such a large variety of people so publicly. It was an unwanted display that had no merit at all.

Most species did not share the Vulcan distaste for intimacy. Spock was well aware of that, but it didn't change his own opinion. In choosing to become more human and fit in with the people he was currently surrounded by on a daily basis, Spock had chosen to act in ways that felt wrong to him. He was learning to accept behavior from others that seemed strange or unacceptable, yet he wasn't sure he would ever be able to do such things with the ease and frequency that others could. Physical intimacy stood out in this area, especially now that he was involved with Uhura. He did not feel comfortable with her touching him in public, no matter how small the touches were. In fact, the only person Spock did not mind touching him was Jim, but he knew this was because they were good friends. Jim was an anomaly, and one that he knew wouldn't happen again. He had been brought up Vulcan, and though his mother had tried to instill emotional freedom in him, Spock always felt uncomfortable with such intimacies. He thought he always would.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dinner was more or less the same as it always was. Jim was at a table with McCoy, Sulu, and Chekov. He had decided on spaghetti and meatballs—an underappreciated classic. With all of the foreign food that was available thanks to the myriad of planets in the Federation, Jim strongly believed that people should take the time to enjoy traditional meals as well as experimental ones. Besides, what Sulu had chosen was actually _moving_ , wriggling around, and it had small tentacles that seemed to be sparking. There really was no contest, in Jim's book.

"Are you _really_ going to eat that?" Jim asked, eyeing the blue thing hesitantly.

"Of course," Sulu replied. "It's a delicacy in the Gamma Nine system."

"It is?" Jim sounded so disbelieving that McCoy and Chekov started laughing. "What? How can something that _moves_ be a delicacy?"

"Delicacy has always been a fancy word for crap," McCoy stated. "You should know that by now."

"I can't believe you're going to eat that," Jim said, staring at Sulu in fear and wonder. "I'm either impressed or horrified. Maybe both." He paused. "Yep, it's both."

Sulu took a knife and cut a tentacle off. The thing made a high-pitched sound and wriggled a little more forcefully. Jim gagged as Sulu speared the tentacle on his fork and ate it in one quick swallow.

"Oh, God," Chekov said. He pushed his plate away from him and shook his head. "I can't. I think I'm going to be sick."

"Mm," Sulu murmured. He closed his eyes and nodded a few times, sighing. "That is an indescribable delight."

"I'll agree with the indescribable part," Jim said, frowning.

"It's best to eat it quickly. That way, your stomach acid has already killed it before it tries to electrocute you." Sulu cut off another tentacle and ate that one, and Jim decided the best thing to do would be to ignore him and eat his own spaghetti.

Then he actually looked down at his spaghetti and noticed the similarity it had to the tentacles in question. Jim frowned. "Shit, I think you've put me off too," he said, sadly.

"It's truly disgusting," Chekov agreed. "I might not eat for a month."

"Oh, come on," McCoy said. "You people are pathetic. You don't know disgusting until you've tried eating with intestines hanging out of a guy next to you." There was utter silence. "What?"

"Bones, you are a man among men," Jim said, sadly.

"It's easy when I'm among you guys," McCoy replied. He took a bite out of his hamburger and chewed thoughtfully. "I never understood the need to eat that stuff anyway. Do you have any _idea_ the amount of diseases those kinds of foods can give you?"

Jim pulled his spaghetti towards him and decided to go for it. He lost track of the conversation as his eyes drifted around the room. Watching the crew enjoy themselves made Jim feel like he was being a good Captain. Things were still running smoothly, more or less. No disasters had occurred. People were doing their jobs with skill and efficiency. He had no complaints.

Then the doors opened and Spock and Uhura walked in. Jim sat up straighter. They were here. Together. Eating together. That was like a date. Were they on a date? To the mess hall? No, that was ridiculous. But then why were they here? _Together_?

If Jim had to sit here and watch Spock and Uhura flirt and make googly eyes at each other, he was going to fire someone. Maybe even someone important.

"What are they doing here?" Jim asked. When awkward silence ensued, he realized he had spoken out loud.

"What's who doing here?" Sulu asked, slowly. "There's a lot of people here, Captain."

"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing," Chekov said, quickly. "Friends eat together all the time."

"Who are we talking about?" McCoy asked, blankly. "I missed it in all the vague insinuations."

"Spock and Uhura," Jim explained.

"Well, Jim, they're _dating_ ," McCoy said, speaking slowly and clearly. "When two people like each other very much—"

"Yeah, stop now," Jim interrupted. "I just meant, you know, usually Spock eats alone. At night. By himself. Without other people… around."

"You do know we understood what you meant when you said ‘alone,' right?" McCoy asked.

"I think it's a good thing he's eating with her," Sulu said.

"You do?" Jim and Chekov said in the exact same tone at the exact same time. They looked at each other before looking back to Sulu, who was regarding both of them with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes," Sulu repeated. "I do."

"Oh," Jim said. "Well, of course. I didn't mean to imply, you know, a bad thing. I just meant that it was kind of weird and all."

"When you're nervous you're even more incoherent than normal," McCoy said, calmly.

"Maybe they'll sit with us," Chekov said, hopefully. He was twirling something orange, and thankfully unmoving, around on his fork. It was probably meat, but Jim was always slightly wary of foreign meat. You just never knew what other cultures considered edible.

"That would be nice," Sulu stated.

Jim waved at Spock and Uhura, immediately hopeful. It would not be the end of the world if they sat alone, of course, but it would somehow make everything ten trillion times better if they joined the rest of what Jim was affectionately calling the bridge group. He knew McCoy wasn't _actually_ stationed on the bridge, but he was there often enough that he counted anyway. Spock and Uhura were part of the bridge group. There was no reason for them to eat alone. Unless, of course, it was a date. But it wasn't a date. There was no way it was a date.

Uhura waved at Jim with a slightly put-out look and then pulled on Spock's arm, dragging him to the opposite side of the room. Spock nodded at Jim and then gestured towards Uhura before following her.

"Looks like they're on a date," McCoy said, without any care at all about how that might sound to an innocent bystander.

"Bones," Jim said, without warning. "You're fired."

"That's nice," McCoy replied.

"They can't be," Chekov said, shooting Jim quick furtive looks that everyone saw. "Anyway, I don't think it's serious. They don't act like they're really dating."

"Maybe they are," Sulu said. "It isn't any of our business either way."

Jim was quiet. Spinning his spaghetti around his fork, he ate it without another comment, once again losing track of the conversation. This time, though, it was intentional. He had no desire to hear speculations on whether Spock and Uhura were dating and how far they had gone and what she was doing to his pointed ears when they were alone at night, naked and pressed against each other, moaning as he—

"Ah!" Jim exclaimed, jumping up from the table so fast he slammed his hip into the edge of it. "Ow!" He dropped back down, curling into himself, rubbing his injured hipbone delicately. "No! Why?"

"Are you okay?" Sulu asked, concerned and obviously confused.

"Yeah, I mean, ow," Jim replied. "I'll be fine."

"Maybe you should stop slamming into inanimate objects," McCoy stated.

"I would if they stopped moving around," Jim said.

"I don't think inanimate objects—" Chekov started.

McCoy interrupted him. "He knows. He's just trying to be funny."

"Oh," Chekov said, nodding slowly.

They finished eating quickly after that, all of them ready to be away from the table that had attacked Jim for reasons unknown. Jim hoped that they wouldn't ask any more questions, but everyone seemed perfectly content to let the matter drop. Which worked perfectly for Jim, since he had no real excuse about why he had suddenly acted like a lunatic in the middle of dinner with half the crew watching. He certainly couldn't say the real reason because the real reason was so ridiculous Jim didn't even believe it himself. In fact, he actually _didn't_ believe it. There had to be another reason why he was so bothered by the idea of Spock and Uhura. It couldn't be what he thought it was.

A few minutes later, Sulu and Chekov gathered their plates and left, most likely to get a rec room before they were all taken. Jim had been rubbing his hipbone off and on for the few minutes, eating his spaghetti intermittently and wondering when Spock was going to look his way.

"Hey," McCoy said, tapping Jim on the shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Jim said. "Thanks."

"You sure?" McCoy said. "If it hit the wrong way, you're going to walk around like a cripple for a few days."

Jim rolled his eyes. "I'll come by later, if it makes you feel better."

"Hey, I'm just looking out for _me_ ," McCoy said. "I don't want to get blamed when the Captain suddenly can't walk straight."

"I said I'll stop by, didn't I?" Jim replied. "So I will."

McCoy looked at Jim and gestured to where Sulu and Chekov had been sitting. "We're playing a game tonight. You coming or not?"

"Yeah," Jim said, quickly. "I'm going to rob you guys blind."

"With what, a pair of twos?" McCoy replied, scoffing.

"You never know," Jim said, confidently. He eyed McCoy with exaggerated interest. "Tonight could be my lucky night."

"Oh God," McCoy said, horrified. "You know what? _Don't_ come by tonight. Maybe your leg'll fall off."

"Don't be like that, baby," Jim said. "You know I love you."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Playing chess with Jim was both irritating and incredibly enjoyable. Jim didn't use logic to determine his moves, which meant that Spock found himself constantly guessing what the next twist in the game would be. It lead to an excitement that he hadn't duplicated with anyone else so far, mostly because everyone always tried to beat him using logic, which always failed. Jim had never even tried to beat Spock at his own game, to coin a human phrase, so it was an experience which was an inherently unique puzzle that Jim dared Spock to solve. It was as if, by moving a piece to a location that made no sense, Jim was taunting Spock, daring him to try and figure out what his plan was. Despite himself, Spock enjoyed it very much.

"You're losing," Jim sing-songed.

"I am not losing," Spock replied, snappish. "I am merely adjusting my strategy."

"Is that Vulcan for losing?" Jim asked.

"No," Spock answered.

"I bet it is," Jim said. "For some reason, and I really don't know why this could be, I get the feeling that Vulcans are incredibly sore losers."

"You are right," Spock said.

"Ha," Jim said, triumphantly.

"I do not know why you would think that either," Spock finished.

"Oh, witty, very witty," Jim said, grinning. "But I'm still winning."

"Chess is not a game where the outcome can be determined before the end," Spock said, deliberately being high-handed to watch Jim's reaction.

"I see through this façade," Jim said. "One day, you'll give it up." Jim blushed then, for some mysterious reason, and added, "I meant the façade, not—" He cut himself off. "Never mind."

Spock nodded absently. Jim sometimes confused himself when he spoke. It was becoming a habit to overlook it. He moved a bishop only for Jim to move a rook, and that got Spock seeing the game in an entirely different light. They played in silence for a while. It was comfortable. Spock felt more at home than he had since he had joined the crew of the Enterprise. They were playing in a rec room that had a few other groups of people in it, but somehow the presence of other people didn't detract from Spock's enjoyment of the game. It was strange. When he had been alone with Uhura, he should have felt more comfortable than he did in a room of near-strangers with Jim. It hadn't happened that way, and Spock could not determine why.

Not that he minded. Spock was content to relax with Jim and let himself be pulled into his Captain's frame of mind. As he imagined what moves were going through Jim's head and which one he would pick, Spock felt closer to Jim than he ever had before. This was the first game of chess they had played together, and so the sensation was new and fascinating to him. He fervently hoped Jim would be amenable to future games.

As Spock watched Jim idly finger a knight that he really should not move if he wanted to have any hope of winning, he realized this was what was missing from his relationship with Uhura. A sense of peacefulness and completion that came when two people simply got along well together—he did not have that when he was with Uhura. Spock did not know how to duplicate it with her. He also didn't know how to explain to her what he thought the problem was. He wasn't even sure if she knew there _was_ a problem.

Jim moved the knight and Spock captured it with his queen. Then Jim moved the rook from the other side behind the queen, blocking his escape. Spock focused on the game, moving with deliberate, carefully planned moves, until Jim cornered him with a move that was so illogical Spock hadn't even seen it coming. Literally.

"I do believe that's checkmate," Jim said, happily.

Spock frowned and studied the board. "It would appear so."

"That's because it is so," Jim replied. "Which I told you forty-five minutes ago."

Spock carefully looked over the pieces, wondering how he could have missed the finishing move Jim must have been planning for some time. Jim grinned at him, not mocking but purely friendly, and pointed to a spot on the board.

"I got you there," he said. "You weren't paying attention to this part."

"I paid attention to the entirety of the board," Spock said. Although, in truth, keeping an equal amount of attention on all three levels of the chess board was more difficult against Jim than it had ever been against anyone else. Jim moved erratically, which meant Spock had focused on the areas of the game which had seemed more relevant. "Perhaps you are right," he relented, tilting his head in agreement.

Jim smiled. "You're really good at this."

"As are you," Spock replied. "I have never played a similar game in my entire life."

"Thanks," Jim said. "But I bet that's only because you've been playing the wrong people."

"Apparently," Spock said. He swallowed and continued, "I would very much like to play against you again." He sounded hopeful, and he worried Jim would pick up on it.

Jim only grinned. "Of course." He punched Spock gently in the shoulder, a gesture Spock had already realized was meant to be affectionate in a masculine way. "I'll play any time you want me to."

"Agreed," Spock replied.

"That is, any time you're free," Jim said. "What with Uhura and all."

"Ah," Spock said, surprised. "Lieutenant Uhura and I spend most of our time apart."

In fact, Uhura had asked Spock if he had wanted to do something with her that night, but Spock had told her that he was planning on spending time with Jim. She had been slightly upset, but eventually she understood that Spock wanted to spend time with his friend that night. They had spent the past two days together, mostly, and Spock had been more than ready to see Jim.

"Whatever," Jim said, shrugging. "Just let me know when you want to play."

"I will," Spock said, and he fully intended to.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, let's not discuss the amount of trouble I had with this part. Well, it's done now and THANK GOD FOR THAT. I'm hoping part 7 won't take nearly as long as this did, but with HBP coming out, time'll be short. I've already got plans for the midnight showing, plus at least one other showing this weekend. You guys know how that goes. *is excited*

Jim had been born to make decisions. He thought everything through quickly, almost instantly, and knew what action he'd take right then. There was no hesitation, no constantly wondering about other possibilities or what would have happened if he'd have gotten someplace earlier or studied more or never met someone. Sure, he had his moments of contemplation just like everyone else did, but he knew there was a time for action and a time for gloating about the right choices or regretting the wrong ones. Starship Captains, he'd quickly learned, spent a small amount of their time acting and the rest of it re-tracing their steps, wondering how they could have improved everyone's performance or the mission in general.

This didn't come naturally to Jim. He had to force himself to consider alternate possibilities. When crew members said they'd made an error, Jim felt more comfortable simply allowing them to correct their own mistakes and move on. But as Captain, he knew he needed to do more than that. He was expected to lecture them, maybe make some disapproving faces and sounds, and probably do something like stop the conversation before he was done and say _I think you know what you've done_ before sweeping off to pretend to be busy doing something else. That sounded about right.

No matter how hard he tried, the best he could muster up was a pat on the back and a firm but friendly _I get people make mistakes, so fix it and don't worry too much_. Certainly, he wouldn't accept people telling him what to do, at least not without them knowing what they were talking about or having good reason for speaking up. Or unless it was Spock—he could say whatever he damn well wanted to, and Jim thought everyone knew it. Still, Jim thought giving orders and being in command was one thing. Taking action, making instant decisions, that was fine with him. He preferred it. When he had to go through everything later and talk to people about their performances and wonder what went wrong, that was what he hated.

He assumed most Captains were better at this part of the job than he was. Jim figured he'd never be able to gather together enough disrespect for one of his crew members to say _You fucked up on this job and now we're screwed_. He knew everyone did their best all the time. Besides, the crew was mostly new. That included Jim himself—he'd never even been stationed on a starship before the Enterprise. Making decisions came naturally, and he loved being a Captain, but he felt as though some of the crew had simply not been ready to be assigned to a starship. Of course, with the severe lack of officers and starships Starfleet currently had, he couldn't complain.

Nor did he want to. These were almost all of the cadets who'd been assigned to the Enterprise as their first mission when Nero attacked. He trusted them now because they'd all already proven themselves then. They had the knowledge they needed, they were masters in their fields, but the actual experience of being on a starship was as new to them as it was to Jim. Sure, they knew the information, but translating that to their jobs was a new trial some of them hadn't encountered before. For all his crew's genius and eagerness to succeed, they just didn't have the field experience they needed. Given time and a few missions, that would be fixed. For now there were plenty of crew members who simply stayed at their posts doing the work they'd always done, not realizing one error in their input could affect the entire outcome of a mission. If a reading was wrong, if something wasn't calculated correctly, if someone forgot to bring the right tools, or if fate or luck or chance or what-have-you decided to step in and shit on the whole thing—how could anyone expect Jim to place the blame on a crew member? He couldn't and wouldn't do that. He was the Captain. If someone made a mistake on his watch, it was his mistake.

Jim, it seemed, was making a whole lot of mistakes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Mapping out new quadrants of space was, by far, the absolute most boring useless waste of time Jim had ever found himself ordered to do. He got that it was important. He just didn't see why he had to do it. There should be specific ships assigned to these tasks—specific _Non-Enterprise_ ships whose sole purpose was making new maps of the galaxy. That way, Jim and his crew could be focused on important, exciting things like discovering new planets and stopping wars and delivering rations to starving colonists, that sort of thing.

They were on their third day of mapping out this unnamed section of space. Jim had nicknamed it Psi Alpha Iota Nu in a moment of clever passive aggressiveness. Somehow he doubted the name would stick, although he thought it had a certain ring to it. Acronymically speaking.

"Captain, I'm receiving a message from Starfleet." Jim had never been so happy to hear Uhura's voice in his entire life. "We have new orders, sir."

"Let me hear it," Jim said, motioning to the speaker on the arm of his chair. So multi-purpose, his chair. Such complexity hidden within such a simple design.

"Captain Kirk, do you copy?" The voice from the speaker was mixed with some static, but Jim recognized it straight away regardless.

"Kirk here," Jim said, grinning. "I haven't heard from you in a few weeks, Pike."

"You _do_ know you're not the only Captain under my jurisdiction, right?" Admiral Pike replied. Pike was the type of man who would say the exact same thing when he was angry as when he was fooling around, so it was always a bit of a guessing game talking to him without seeing his face. He sounded happy, though, so Jim took it as the well-meaning jibe it was probably intended to be.

"I thought you'd have enough to do with just me to clean up after," Jim said. He motioned to Spock to start the next round of charting for their maps. Screwing up now meant they'd have to re-do the entire last five hours worth of work. That obviously wouldn't be happening if Jim had any say in the matter.

"That's what I told the board, but you know how those damn Admirals are," Pike said, sighing. "They won't listen to a word from us peons."

"You know, I happen to know a marvelous Admiral who is quite possibly, in addition to being superior in every way as a commanding officer, also the finest man I have ever known," Jim said, overloading each word with sincerity and charm.

"I don't know what you're sucking up for. You already know you're getting a good performance review." Pike laughed, and Jim could picture him sitting behind a ton of paperwork, shaking his head at the speaker on his desk.

"It never hurts to suck up," Jim said. He looked meaningfully around the bridge, catching the eye of each of his staff. "Sucking up always ends well. Remember that."

"Are you terrorizing your crew?" Pike asked.

"No, I leave that to my First Officer," Jim answered, grinning again. "He's got them working better and faster than I ever could."

Spock raised an eyebrow and Jim raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. It was true. The crew was literally terrified that Spock would catch them not working. Spock might not have noticed because, well, he was always around himself. But Jim had walked down the corridors with and without Spock, and there was definitely a distinct difference between how much people stopped to talk or joke around when it was just Jim versus how much everyone concentrated on working when Spock was there. It was good for the crew to be frightened of one of them, and Jim figured Spock was the better choice for that particular job. It kept the crew on their toes. And it was really, _really_ funny. One time Jim had seen Spock berate an officer who had been slacking off, and it was pretty awesome. There had been a lot of disapproving eyebrow movements.

"Good to know you're already shirking your duties," Pike said. "So how are the star maps coming along?"

"They have become so dear to me that I now consider them to be a fundamental part of my daily life," Jim said. "I'm not sure I could part with them."

"Prepare to be broken-hearted," Pike said. "You've got a new mission."

"The pain," Jim said. "It overtakes me. Please _God_ , tell me it's not more star charts."

"It's more star charts," Pike said. "Except they're in the form of experimental medical supplies."

Jim paused. He glanced over and saw Spock's attention had been captured by that, as well. "That sounds both interesting and potentially dangerous."

"Astute as usual," Pike replied. "An unknown disease has completely wiped out the Lambda Three colony. A few of the colonists trying to escape the disease went to the next colony over, Lambda Four. The disease has just started appearing there. All space traffic in the area has been stopped, but we can't run the risk of letting this disease spread any further."

Jim bit his lower lip. "What kind of precautions do we have?"

"Standard-issue anti-radiation suits should be fine," Pike answered. "But you'll be the first people going in, so we don't have anything to go on."

"Where are we picking the supplies up from?" Jim drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, already calculating just how long it would take to reach Lambda Four.

"A supply ship is on route to Lambda Beta Nine now," Pike said. "The supplies will be there in twenty hours."

"All right," Jim said. "Send the details to me and I'll look them over. We should be there in the next two solar days."

"Good luck," Pike said. "Try not to miss the star charts too much."

"Yeah, well, we weren't meant to be cartographers anyway," Jim replied. "Kirk out."

Jim gestured to Spock, waving a hand towards the lift. "Chekov, set a course for Lambda Beta Nine. Sulu, once the course is set, take us there, warp 1. In the meantime, everybody should be finishing this last star chart unless you want to have to re-do the last fifty-nine. Uhura, you have the conn."

"Yes, sir," Sulu and Uhura said. Sulu immediately went back to plotting the current star chart while Uhura stored the mission in the correct folders.

"Aye, sir," Chekov said. He brought up a series of maps and started looking them over.

"Files received from Admiral Pike," Uhura said. "Should I send them to your quarters?"

"Yeah, thanks," Jim said. He followed Spock into the lift and waited until the doors closed before looking at his First Officer. "Is this going to suck?"

"Define ‘suck'," Spock said, eyebrow raising slightly.

"Don't pull that shit," Jim said. "You know what I mean. Is this going to get some of our people killed?"

"I have not yet seen the specifics of the mission so I cannot make a completely accurate statement at this time," Spock replied.

"So guess," Jim said.

"I estimate that the likelihood of one of the crew who beams down to the planet to distribute the supplies contracting the disease is about twenty-three point seven two eight," Spock stated, calmly. "That is, of course, taking into account both the nature of the disease as I gathered from Admiral Pike's vague description and the presence of fully functional standard-issue anti-radiation suits on each team member."

Jim opened his mouth to say something, but he ended up just staring at Spock with his mouth half-open for a few seconds. "You know," he ended up saying, conversationally, "your guesses are other people's hours of work solving mathematical equations."

"I see," Spock said. Jim had already learned that Spock said that when he didn't know what else to say. In fact, Jim half-thought that Spock also said ‘I see' when he didn't understand what was going on. But of course Spock would never admit that. Jim just really liked to think it.

The lift stopped and they walked quickly to Jim's quarters, during which time Jim once again noticed just how much everyone concentrated on working when Spock was present. It was kind of amazing to think that Spock had that effect on the crew. He was like Jim's bodyguard or something—looking menacing and scaring people into doing what they were supposed to be doing. Although, Jim thought Spock looked pretty damn… uh, friendly.

When they went into Jim's room, his first thought was that he and Spock were alone in the same room with a bed. That was such a ridiculous thought to be having given the situation that Jim knew something had to be done. He had to stop fantasizing so much. If he just—okay, no, it had to be something that was _possible_ for him to do. He would think of something. It had never been this way with anyone before, even when Jim had been really into somebody. He was usually able to concentrate when important events were taking place, regardless of the proximity of that person. Yet here he was, noticing Spock waiting by his desk which was almost right next to his bed, when what he _should_ be noticing were the files Spock had already pulled up onto his computer screen. 

Jim sat down at his desk without wasting any more time. He knew he wasn't that into Spock because Spock was a guy, and the more times Jim reminded himself that he didn't do guys the less convincing he sounded even though it was true. Still. He didn't do guys. He would sort this out before it got any worse. There was a reason. There was a _heterosexual_ reason. And Jim was going to find it.

"Let's see what this is about," Jim said, mostly to himself. He began reading the report, accidentally skipping a few lines when Spock walked around the desk to stand behind his shoulder and read from there. He went back, making sure he focused on what it was saying, and after ten minutes Jim leaned back in his chair and looked at Spock, who was already watching him with a blank expression.

"We need to call a meeting," Jim said, heavily.

"I'll arrange it immediately." Spock turned and left Jim's quarters without a second thought, leaving Jim wondering if Spock had even noticed his nervous behavior at all. There was no time to angst about it. He had a meeting to get to.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was easy enough to organize an impromptu meeting, especially when the bridge crew who had overheard the exchange were eager to know exactly what was happening. In two minutes, Spock had informed McCoy, Uhura, Sulu, Chekov, and Scotty that their presence was needed in Meeting Room 1. Communicators made all conversation efficient. It would have taken Spock close to ten minutes to go to the bridge, sick bay, and the engine room. As it was, in ten minutes everyone was assembled and sitting around the table, waiting for Jim to start.

Jim had a tendency to overdramatize everything he could. It had annoyed Spock, at first, because of course who wanted to witness preposterous emotional displays fourteen point three eight times a day? Over time, though, Spock had grown accustomed to Jim's mannerisms. He had to admit they were similar to Earth's dandelions—unwanted but eventually resigned to and even admired. This situation, though, was dramatic enough without the added flair. Jim seemed to realize this because Spock noticed he was more subdued than usual. Although, for Jim, ‘more subdued than usual' was still fairly exuberant.

Jim nodded at Spock, which was their unspoken signal to let the other person take charge. Spock was mildly surprised, but then he realized Jim wouldn't want to repeat the information they'd read. He would only want to discuss their strategy.

"We have been assigned a mission to the Lambda Four colony," Spock started. "A disease of unknown origin is spreading through the colonists there. The disease came from the Lambda Three colony, on which no survivors remain. Our mission is to pick up experimental medical supplies of various natures to deliver to Lambda Four and distribute them among the colonists. The team selected for this mission will go in wearing standard-issue anti-radiation suits to protect against infection, however due to almost no information on this disease we cannot be sure the team members will not become infected." Spock paused, letting that bit sink in. He wanted them all to know what the risks were. He was sure Jim agreed. "We will be taking a minimum team to the colony, for safety reasons. We believe the colonists might have infected their food and drinking water, so we will be bringing our own supplies."

"Lambda Four is basically a desert," Jim said once Spock had finished. "And the team that goes down there won't be allowed to beam back up until we're sure they're not sick. Otherwise they could contaminate the whole ship with this thing."

"An unidentified awful space disease," McCoy said, groaning. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Because you knew it all along?" Jim guessed.

"Exactly. So who's going?" McCoy asked. "Besides me, I mean."

Jim half-smiled at McCoy. Spock had seen them exchange this look several times. The meaning of the look was unclear to him, as was the reason behind why it was created and exchanged without other signals to go along with it. This was an interesting aspect of Jim and McCoy's friendship that Spock found he couldn't entirely relate to. He wondered if it was a human thing or if it was simply something they shared. He'd like to ask Jim, but it seemed like it would be an invasion of something that Spock had no right barging into. He had a feeling that friendships between humans were much more complex than he had originally believed.

"Unfortunately, there's one other person who has to go," Jim said. Spock looked at Uhura at the same time Jim did, and her face tightened, lips thinning out and jaw clenched. "The colonists don't speak English, and apparently there's something in the air that makes all electronics work like crap, sketchy at best." Spock saw Uhura nod once, shortly, obviously already understanding the need for her presence. "So we can't count on our translators to work."

"It's fine. I'll go," Uhura said. "Does anyone know what they speak?"

"No, we figured we'd leave it for you as a surprise," Jim said in a much kinder tone than he usually used.

"Oh good," Uhura replied. "I love surprises."

"Wait," McCoy said. "If electrical equipment malfunctions, how am I supposed to create the cure down there? I need machines to get the results, Jim. Otherwise it's all guesswork. I may as well stay here."

"You'll have to do your best," Jim replied. "I know it sounds shitty, but that's what we've got right now."

McCoy groaned, but Spock interrupted what would most likely be a complaint and said, "I may be able to make an emitter that would clear the air of the chemicals harmful to electronics in a small radius around it." Everyone looked at Spock, and he felt as though he had said something profound instead of the simple solution he knew it was.

"Well. That would be awesome," Jim said. "So maybe work on that."

"Yes, sir," Spock said, as if he hadn't just said he would.

"So that would clear up one problem. And because we don't want to risk people stupidly, only one other person will be going until we figure out the cure," Jim said.

"That will be me," Spock and Jim both said at the exact same time. Spock looked at Jim, surprised, but Jim was shaking his head at him.

"I'm the Captain," Jim said. "I'm going."

"That is precisely the reason why you should not be a member of this team," Spock said. "Your position is difficult to replace."

"So is yours," Jim said, waving a hand at Spock.

"You are a valuable asset to Starfleet—"

"So are you!"

"If you are infected it would be difficult for you to be treated quickly—"

"Yeah, again, _same to you_."

"Okay, that's great," McCoy said. "Let's hear from some other people now."

Spock realized he'd been involved in a disagreement which should have been private. No one liked to see their Captain and First Officer arguing. McCoy didn't look bothered, but then again he had known Jim for long enough that Spock assumed he had seen Jim argue with people many times before. Scotty and Sulu seemed mildly perturbed but not incredibly so. Chekov looked incredibly agitated, glancing quickly between Jim and Spock himself several times, before finally giving Spock a sympathetic look. Chekov often seemed on the verge of a mental collapse. It was quite troubling. Uhura was sitting there quietly, waiting for the meeting to continue.

"I don't really see what good I can do you," Scotty stated. "If you need something fixed, sure, but otherwise…" He shrugged. "It might be better for me to stay on the ship and keep it running. And, by the way, not get infected by a killer disease. Just saying."

"I'd go if I thought you needed me," Sulu said. "But I don't have any experience in medicine or linguistics."

"Neither do I," Chekov said. "I could help giving out the medication, though. You're going to need help with that, right? There's too many people in a colony for a team of three!"

"We will be handing out medicine once we have arrived at a cure for the disease," Spock said. "In the meantime, it is better for everyone involved if only essential team members are beamed down to the colony."

"All right, so for now it will be McCoy, Uhura, and me," Jim said. "Once we figure out a cure, we'll get other people down to help out."

"Captain, I must insist that you allow me to lead this team," Spock stated. He had no idea why Jim was being so stubborn about this.

"No, Spock," Jim said, forcefully. "And that's an order."

Spock hesitated, unsure how to continue from there. It was next to impossible to get around a direct order. He knew there had to be a way. Jim might listen to reason, if he could speak with him alone for long enough to convince him to stay on board the Enterprise while Spock led the team. He'd have to try it.

"Oh, and one more thing," Jim said. "Because of the electrical equipments malfunctions, the Federation hasn't had any contact with these colonists since they got to this planet fifty years ago. They've been sending food, supplies, that sort of thing, but otherwise there's been no reports about these people. So we don't really know what we're going into."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Chekov said. "Shouldn't the Federation keep tabs on all their colonies?"

"There's too many colonies to keep track of them all," Sulu said, calmly. "The Federation helps each one start out, hangs around for a year or two to make sure they're doing well, and then leaves them to it." Sulu spread his hands outward, palms up. "These people are from all different planets and backgrounds, after all. They're gathering together to start a new life. Having a starship babysitting them the entire time isn't going to help anyone."

"That is true," Spock agreed. "There are not enough starships in the Federation to ensure one for each colony. Considering that each colony is given ways of communicating with Starfleet should the need arise, it is only logical for the starships to continue on to their next mission."

"Yeah, can you see us hovering over a colony for ten years?" Scotty asked, shuddering. "I think I'd go crazy."

"All right," Jim stated, clapping his hands together once, loudly. "Is there anything else?" He waited a beat, and everyone was silent. "Then I think that brings this meeting to a close. Gather all the materials you'll need—food, water, clothes, McCoy, you'll need your medical shit, Uhura, whatever it is you've got, bring it along. We'll be at Lambda Beta Nine in thirty-eight hours, and Lambda Four in another three. That's it."

As everyone else but Jim was leaving, Uhura walked over to Spock and lightly touched his arm. "Hey, don't worry," she said. "We'll be fine."

After a second of confusion, Spock realized he had not actually been concerned for Uhura's safety at all. His mind had been entirely on Jim, which not only made no sense but was also incredibly insulting to both McCoy and Uhura. Guilt swept over him. He really was not good at forming friendships and romantic relationships. It would be a better idea for him to avoid the entire process at all times.

"You should begin preparations," Spock said. "I must speak with the Captain before he leaves." Jim showed no sign of leaving. He was sitting in the chair at the head of the table, leaning backwards on it with his hands crossed behind his head, obviously watching Spock and Uhura.

Uhura glanced over at Jim, then back at Spock. "All right," she said. "Then I'll see you later." She walked out of the room, looking over her shoulder at Spock right before the door closed. Spock would have to fix things with her later. Right now, he had a Captain to persuade.

"You are being stubborn, short-sighted, and irrational," Spock said.

Jim got up out of his chair and walked towards Spock, hopping up onto the table when they were directly next to each other. Spock would never understand the human need for physical closeness during a conversation. It was perfectly acceptable to speak to another person without moving few feet closer, especially when said people were in an otherwise empty room.

"Look, I'm not letting you do this," Jim replied. "You can call me as many names as you'd like to." He paused. "It's actually kind of funny."

"There is a significantly higher risk on this mission than on our usual missions," Spock continued.

"Oh, and it wasn't dangerous beaming into Nero's ship?" Jim asked. He shook his head. "You know this is nothing compared to that."

"True," Spock agreed. "But the fact that a previous mission was more dangerous than the current one does not negate the threat of the current one. It only adds to the problem of you putting yourself in danger more than is acceptable."

Jim grinned. "You're worried about me."

Spock hesitated. "Worry is a human emotion. As such, I am not worried. I am merely expressing my opinion that your participation in this mission would be an unnecessary risk."

"So you're expressing an opinion that's worry for me, then," Jim replied. He tilted his head to the side, just a bit, studying Spock carefully. "I thought you were trying to be more emotional?"

"There is a difference between accepting your emotions and expressing them," Spock stated.

"All right, all right," Jim said. "No need to get all unemotional at me." He sighed and leaned back on the table, spreading his hands out behind him to hold him up. "But you do understand why you're not going, right?"

"I understand and appreciate your concern," Spock said. "However, my duties as First Officer require me—"

"—to take the exact same chances I take as Captain," Jim said, interrupting him. "I get it. But there's two reasons why it would be better for me to do this than for you to do it."

"I cannot imagine what those reasons would be," Spock replied. Jim was going to try and wriggle out of this somehow. He wasn't going to let it happen. He was going to have Jim stay on the ship while he went on the mission no matter what Jim had to say about it.

"Well, you don't have to imagine ‘cause I'm telling you, so it all works out. The first is that none of the colonists are Vulcan." Jim nodded to himself as if his comment made sense. Spock supposed, in Jim's version of the world, it probably had.

"The colonists' race has no bearing on our mission," Spock stated. "That is not a logical reason for you to endanger yourself."

"Let me finish, geez. _Because_ ," Jim intoned, as if speaking to a small child. "Bones has to go since he's the doctor. Uhura has to go so we can talk to them. So Bones is already going to have to make two versions of the cure—one for the colonists and one for humans."

"You believe asking Doctor McCoy to edit his antidote so that it is suitable for my consumption would be too difficult a task for him?" Spock asked, knowing questioning McCoy's ability would grate on Jim's nerves.

"Hey, I didn't say that." Jim rolled his eyes. "But you already know that and you're just trying to tick me off. And it's not going to work because I have a point here. So what I'm saying is that we're only getting a limited amount of the medical supplies. Whatever they drop off at Lambda Beta Nine is what we're getting, it's not like more's going to magically appear if we need it. Bones is going to waste some of it on tests and making a whole lot of bad cures before he finds the right one. Well, not waste, but still."

"You are right," Spock said. Jim looked at him, surprised, but Spock knew a good logical argument when he heard one. "Having Doctor McCoy make another antidote for myself would be a waste of our limited resources."

"Ah, you see?" Jim said.

"However we do not know how any of the crew will react to this disease," Spock pointed out. "Humans might be affected differently than the colonists are. Vulcans might not be affected at all. We cannot be sure until we beam down and discover what occurs."

"You're right," Jim said. "But if we assume that we'll all be fine and then we're _not_ …"

"It would be illogical," Spock finished.

"Exactly," Jim replied. "And since, like I said before, Bones and Uhura have to go, it makes sense for me to go out of the two of us since I'm fully human."

"It is true," Spock agreed. "You are a complete human while I am only one-half." Spock had tried to keep his tone without inflection, but obviously it hadn't worked because Jim was frowning at him.

Jim pushed himself into an upright sitting position on the desk and held onto the edge of the table with both hands. "Come on, you know I didn't mean it like that," he said, quietly. "I think you're awesome how you are. I don't want you to think that I… or, I guess, I mean that _anyone_ thinks badly of you because of who you are. Don't think that."

How little Jim understood about the parts of the world he wasn't aware of. Spock hadn't expected him to know what it was like for him, both currently on the Enterprise and in his past on Vulcan, but he also hadn't expected Jim to state his ignorance in such a manner. Yet Spock had no wish to bring up this topic. It also was completely not the point of the conversation, and he would not be deterred.

"I will concede your first reason," Spock said, blandly. "What is your second reason?"

Jim pursed his lips for a moment before shrugging. "Okay, fine. Have it your way. The second reason is also that you're half-Vulcan, but this time it's…" Jim trailed off, obviously hesitant to continue.

Spock nodded in understanding. "Of course I agree that there has been enough loss of Vulcan life. Yet that does not mean I am willing to abandon my duties when they become dangerous."

"And I'm not asking you to," Jim replied, quickly. "I just want you to stay on board because it's better that way. For everyone. You'll be able to monitor us from up here, and Bones won't have to worry about making a third cure specifically for you. I mean, that makes sense to you, right?"

"Yes," Spock answered. That was entirely the problem. He couldn't find a way around Jim's arguments because, in truth, it _would_ be a waste of time and supplies for McCoy to make another version of the cure, if that was what was necessary. Jim had thought this through, which Spock belatedly realized he should have expected. For all of Jim's antics and joking around, he had earned his right to be a Captain. The promotion had not been an act of gratitude from Starfleet for defeating Nero. That would have been both illogical and detrimental to everyone involved. Even now that almost an entire graduating class had been annihilated and they were short-staffed in every quadrant, Starfleet still only gave people positions that they deserved. Jim had the capacity to be Captain in every way, and Spock was learning that underestimating him was a mistake too many people made. Spock would not be one of them.

"So then you're staying," Jim said, half-confident and half-questioning.

"I will stay on board the Enterprise for this mission," Spock replied.

"I knew you'd see it my way," Jim stated, smiling. He hopped off the desk and slapped Spock on the shoulder, letting his hand rest there. "Thanks. And don't you have some toy to build for Bones?"

Spock nodded. "I will begin working on the emitter immediately."

"Sounds good," Jim said. His hand slipped a few inches down Spock's arm and then dropped away. "I'm off to be Captainy. I'm sure there's _someone_ I can fire if I look hard enough." Jim grinned cheekily at him and walked out of the room, leaving Spock standing there, wondering how Jim had won an argument against him. Using _logic_.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once the medical supplies were on board, Jim had McCoy look them over. There were only three hours until they would be on Lambda Four, but that didn't mean they should rush through the preparations. If McCoy didn't get a chance to look through everything before they beamed to the colony, then he might not know what else to bring with him to make the correct cure. Jim wasn't entirely sure how these things worked, but he knew McCoy would appreciate some extra time with the medicine before he was experimenting with it.

Right before Jim had left McCoy to his work, McCoy had made a comment that had unsettled Jim. He had implied that the supplies Starfleet had sent really were experimental in the truest sense of the word—that they might not even work for what they were supposed to be used for. Which meant that their effects were still not entirely certain. Which meant that mixing them together could cause a lot of problems. McCoy had assured Jim he would do the best he could and bring everything he needed with them, but Jim already had a bad feeling about the entire mission. Sure, attempting to find a cure to an unknown disease that had killed an entire colony was exciting and important, but not knowing how the disease was spread or how fast it worked was really bothering him. He hoped the anti-radiation suits would work. He had a sinking feeling they wouldn't because he knew things usually went badly when you went into a situation blind. But orders were orders, and anyway he couldn't in good conscience leave a whole colony of people in danger because he was concerned for the safety of his crew.

Besides, he had won. He was going to beam down while Spock stayed safely up here. He was glad he'd thought the argument through before the meeting because if he'd been on the spot he might have said the real reason he didn't want Spock to go. Somehow, Jim didn't think Spock would've appreciated being told "You can't go because then I couldn't watch you bend over your work station all the time." Not that that was the actual reason, but it was close enough and it was probably what would have come out of his mouth in the middle of an argument. Jim was just lucky like that. He might have also mentioned that he'd like to get Spock naked in his bed in a very heterosexual way. Even worse, he might have started going on about how he actually cared what Spock thought about everything, even little things like how his breakfast was or if the font on the reports should be changed, and that he loved spending time with Spock and joking around with him and that he was disappointed when Spock wasn't around and frustrated when he saw Spock and Uhura together and… Yeah. It was definitely better he'd thought out a decent _logical_ reason beforehand.

Jim was in the transporter room now, preparing to beam down with McCoy and Uhura. The three of them were wearing anti-radiation suits, which were these monstrous white outfits that looked like the misshapen offspring of a jumpsuit, marshmallow, and electrical outlet. They came equipped with oxygen tanks and helmets that completely covered their heads, which none of them were currently wearing in order to conserve their oxygen supply. Scotty was waiting to beam them down when asked to. Spock was also there, explaining how the emitter worked to McCoy. Jim understood the concept fairly quickly because, really, what Spock was saying in his long-winded way was that you pressed a button and it got stuff around the machine to work. Except Spock, being _Spock_ , needed to explain it down to the most intricate detail in order to feel comfortable handing it over to them.

"Thanks," Jim finally said, interrupting Spock when he had started in on what a bad idea it would be to throw the small machine against a wall for the third time. "I think we got it."

"Just hand it over," McCoy said, sighing. "I promise I won't let Jim near it." Jim rolled his eyes but let McCoy have his little jibe.

Spock gave the emitter to McCoy, lips thinned out and an eyebrow raised and his chin jutting forward a bit. Jim loved it when Spock looked all pouty and put-out like that. It was cute.

"Remember it will only work in a ten foot radius," Spock said. "Also, the power supply takes a lot of energy. When you are not using it, turn the emitter off. Otherwise, the power will drain out and there will be no way to replace it."

McCoy nodded. "Got it. For the tenth time." He looked at Jim. "Are we leaving or am I going to have to listen to Spock some more?"

Jim grinned. "I like listening to Spock. It makes me feel smarter."

"Listening to a five-year-old throwing a temper tantrum would make _you_ feel smarter," Uhura replied, shaking her head.

"Fine, okay, let's all just insult the Captain. It's not like he has control over our jobs or anything," Jim said. "You guys have everything you need? We can't come back up until we've got the cure, you know that. Bring it now if you're going to need it."

Jim double-checked his own supplies while McCoy and Uhura looked through their own bags. He had only packed what he absolutely needed—the medical supplies that wouldn't fit in McCoy's bags, some clothes and an assortment of hygienic _stuff_ (toothbrush, soap, shampoo, deodorant, etc—all of which, including the clothes, he would not be able to use if they discovered the disease was airborne since he wouldn't be able to take off the anti-radiation suit), a few blankets and a pillow. They were planning on staying in whatever accommodations they could find on the colony. An empty house would be best, but they'd take anything.

"Everyone good?" Jim asked once he'd finished checking his bag and was satisfied that he'd brought everything he needed to. He had a phaser and communicator on him, as was standard procedure for all missions. He'd brought an extra communicator along, just in case the atmospheric problems messed with the first one. Not that the second one would last much longer, but at least he might have a chance with it.

"I've been ready," McCoy said, hefting his bag and dumping it onto the platform.

"I've got everything," Uhura said. She also put her bag on the platform, on the circle next to where she'd be standing.

"All right," Jim said. He turned to Spock, gesturing to the corridor. "Make sure to beam those crates of medicine down after us, but only when I give the order. Otherwise we'll have to lug them around until we find someplace to set up."

"I understand," Spock replied. He paused, and Jim realized he was trying to figure out how to phrase something. "Remember to make contact when you reach the surface and once every twelve hours continuously after that."

Jim felt his smile turn softer, and he quickly turned so that only Spock could see it. No sense letting everyone know he was an idiot. "I won't forget. Don't worry."

He wanted to say something else that sounded better. Something that would really make Spock more comfortable with the idea of staying on the ship while the rest of them went into blatant danger. But then Uhura came up behind Jim, stepping around him to stand next to Spock. She put her hand on his arm and Spock tore his eyes away from Jim to look at her. Jim didn't want to see this, didn't want to hear whatever she was going to say, so he turned around and went to the beaming platform, grabbing his bag as he passed it.

"I'll miss you," Uhura said, quietly. But not quietly enough that everyone else in the room couldn't hear her. "I'll be back soon."

"Do not put yourself in unnecessarily dangerous situations," Spock said.

"I won't," Uhura replied.

There were a few moments of silence and Jim was so glad he was looking the other way he almost cried with relief. McCoy gave him a funny look, half-curious and half-suspicious, but Jim ignored him. McCoy could be as suspicious as he wanted to be. Jim still didn't want to see how Uhura was saying good-bye to Spock, and he _definitely_ didn't want to see Spock's reaction to it. Uhura joined them on the platform and they all attached their helmets, fastening them securely.

Jim looked at Scotty, nodding. "Beam us down, Scotty."

In seconds they were on the surface of the planet, standing on sand and staring out at nothing all around them. The desert spread in every direction as far as he could see. Not that he could see far because it was very close to being pitch black. Moonlight allowed him to see a few feet in every direction, but that was about it. He had been hoping for some clue to where the colony was. It looked like they'd have to figure it out the hard way.

"Uhura," Jim said. His voice came out muffled and mechanical-sounding through the voice processor. Jim hated these suits, but if they saved them from contracting the fatal disease, he wouldn't complain. Much.

"Sir?" she asked, looking at him as McCoy continued to survey the area.

"Let's get some readings. There's got to be some way to tell which way we should go," Jim said. He gestured to the tricorder slung around her neck. "Anything is better than us guessing."

"All right, but I'll need the emitter for it to work." Uhura reached out towards McCoy, who handed over the emitter without complaint. "Before I turn it on, is there anything specific you want me to look for?"

"I'd suggest water," McCoy said. "Especially on a desert planet, anywhere there's water there should be signs of people. We could probably look for food sources, too, or living organisms, if the water's no good."

"Sounds good," Jim said. "And all we need is to run into one person or a sign or something to give us directions."

Uhura turned the emitter and tricorder on at the same time, flicking both switches in sync. She started fiddling with the dials, no doubt gathering data that they'd need. Jim was content to let her work. He stood closer to her and opened his communicator.

"Enterprise, Kirk here," Jim said.

"This is Spock."

Jim smiled. Which was stupid because they were stuck in the middle of a desert and he'd only just seen Spock less than three minutes ago, anyway. "Hey. We're safe. We're on the surface, there's desert every which way. And it's the middle of the night. Uhura's getting some readings and then we're going to try to find the colony."

"The atmosphere is preventing us from getting entirely accurate readings," Spock said. "We will track your communicators to monitor your location."

"Sounds good," Jim said. "I'll contact you again when we've found something."

"Make sure you check in every twelve hours, regardless of your situation," Spock said.

Jim's smile widened. "I already said I would, you know. You don't have to nag." There was dead silence over the radio, and Jim just knew both of Spock's eyebrows were near his hairline. "Kirk out."

Uhura was still getting her readings, so Jim looked at McCoy in hopes of a decent conversation. McCoy was already blatantly staring at him. Jim briefly went over the conversation with Spock, but he hadn't said anything damning at all, he hadn't even _hinted_. So there really was no reason for McCoy to have that look on his face.

"What?" Jim asked, eyebrows furrowed. "You got a complaint already? We only just got here, you know."

"No complaints," McCoy said, shrugging. "Just thinking you look ridiculous in that suit."

Jim shook his head. "Were you undressing me with your eyes _again_? I told you not while we're on duty."

"This might be hard for you to believe, but not everyone wants to have sex with you," McCoy stated, blandly.

" _Amen_ ," Uhura fervently agreed.

"That's impossible for me to believe," Jim replied. "Because it's just not true. Are you done with the readings yet?"

"Almost," Uhura said. "Be patient."

Jim took a few steps forward, just for something to do. He didn't mind waiting, but he didn't like the idea of waiting in such an open area. They didn't really know anything about this planet. There could be other creatures living here besides the colonists. And Jim had a very vivid memory of being attacked by a giant monster on a mostly empty ice planet.

"All right," Uhura said, turning off the emitter and the tricorder. "There are two bodies of water in the area. The larger one is that way," she said, pointing into the distance behind McCoy, "and it's both large enough to support life and most likely not dry up anytime soon. The other's that way," she jerked a thumb over her own shoulder this time, "and is about half the size but would still be able to support life for an estimated two hundred and fifty to two hundred and sixty years."

"So the colonists could have chosen either one," Jim stated. "Both would have been good options in this shitty weather."

"Or they could have split up, deciding to try each location and see which was better," McCoy said. "They would have known fairly quickly if one water source had some problem, like a contamination or if a dangerous species was already using it."

"Yeah, maybe," Jim said. "What were the other readings?"

"There were life forms by both water sources, but there was no indication about what they were," Uhura said. "They could be the colonists. I can't say for sure."

"Okay," Jim said. "We can't stand around here all day. How far in each direction are we talking?"

"Five miles behind me, and six and a half miles behind McCoy," Uhura replied.

"Okay, that's not so bad," Jim said. "It could be a lot worse. We'll go to McCoy's water source first, since it's bigger and can support more people. Even if the colonists aren't there, they probably checked it out and maybe they left something behind. Who knows? It's worth a look either way."

Jim started walking in the direction Uhura had indicated. She and McCoy followed a few feet behind him. It was a pain in the ass walking in the obnoxious suits. He felt like he was trudging through mud all the time—dragging his feet up and forward when the suit wanted to keep them bogged down. It took three times as long as it should have for them to see the lake shimmering in the distance. In fact, it had been light for at least two hours before they could see the group of fifty or so small tents pitched close together about half-way around the lake.

"Ha," Jim said, relieved because if he'd been wrong they'd have had to walk eleven and a half miles in the other direction, and McCoy and Uhura might have mutinied. "That's got to be the colony."

"I think I see people," Uhura said.

"Well, let's get there already," McCoy stated. "My legs are going to fall off."

They had only walked another few minutes when Jim saw a group of people running towards them. They were wearing simple, lightweight clothes that covered only what was necessary—the most obvious choice in a temperature such as this one. What worried Jim was that, even though they looked very similar to humans, they had bluish-green skin and were holding what looked like a long stick with daggers sticking out of it every few inches.

"Bones, Uhura," Jim said. "Do you recognize them?"

"Um, their skin tone makes me think somewhere around Orion, but obviously they're different," she replied.

"Their weapons are primitive," McCoy answered. "They probably don't have the same understanding of technology that we do."

"So, what, we look like huge marshmallow monsters to them?" Jim asked.

"Probably," McCoy said.

"You'd think they'd know we're from the Federation," Uhura said. "They're the colonists, aren't they?"

"Yeah, I think so," Jim said. "But we don't look like the other Federation members they've met right now."

"And they're suffering from an unknown disease," McCoy added. "They might just be scared."

The colonists were close enough now that Jim could see they looked panicked. He gestured to Uhura and said, "Start talking."

Uhura began speaking in a few different languages, which all sounded like gibberish to him. When the colonists were only ten feet away, they stopped suddenly, coming to a halt so quickly Jim thought they must have had some of the fastest reflexes in the galaxy. One of the colonists pointed the odd weapon straight at them, speaking gibberish so quickly even Uhura seemed taken aback.

"Surprise," Jim said. "Remember, I said it would be a surprise, and it is." She shot him an unamused look before putting her hands up in the universal gesture for peace and walking in front of Jim.

She began speaking again, but this time recognition flared in the eyes of the man pointing the weapon at them. He slowly lowered his weapon, listening to her as she spoke. When she was silent, the man spoke to her, and within minutes they were engaged in a serious conversation that Jim had no hope of following. He was deeply, intensely glad he had brought Uhura on this mission. Otherwise, the colonists might have just attacked them without hesitation. Even if he had relied on a translating machine and used the emitter to get it work, he wouldn't have had the skill Uhura had at dealing with people of different cultures. It was something most xenolinguists had to be good at due to the wide range of people they encountered. Jim had never been more grateful for a xenolinguist in his _life_.

"Okay," Uhura said, turning to them. "We've got some problems."

"Well, that's less than awesome," Jim said. "But go anyway."

"We're under arrest," Uhura said.

"What?" Jim asked.

"Why? What did we _do_?" McCoy said, frowning.

"Apparently the colonists are concerned we're here to make the disease even worse," Uhura said. "Since the last newcomers brought the disease, they think we're bringing even more death to them."

"Oh, you've got to be fucking _kidding_ me," Jim said, throwing his hands up in the air. The colonists all took a step forward, pointing their weapons at him. Jim lowered his hands slowly. "Would you tell them we're here to save them, not kill them?"

"I did, Captain," Uhura said, lips thinning. "But he says they can't take that chance. He's going to take us to a tent where we'll be held until we either produce the cure or the disease gets worse, in which case he says they'll know we caused the progression."

"That's ridiculous!" McCoy shouted. "Any idiot knows that diseases get worse over time without treatment."

"I don't know what to tell you," Uhura said. "I tried reasoning with him, but he won't budge. He says he should have killed us on sight, but we're being allowed to live because we might give them a cure."

Jim looked the colonists over, carefully. They were obviously not listening to reason. Spock would have cried. Jim smiled and shook his head. "Then let's agree for now."

"What?" McCoy asked, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Well, we need a place to stay and work on the cure, right?" Jim shrugged. "Let's take the tent they give us and just deal with it. When we get the cure, everything will sort itself out."

"Jim, I don't know how long the cure is going to take," McCoy said. "It could be a few hours. It could be _weeks_."

"We can't go back to the Enterprise until you've got it," Jim said. "You know that. So let's do things their way for now. Besides, they don't know that our electronics work. We've got phasers, if we need them." Jim looked at Uhura. "Tell them we'll agree, but that McCoy needs access to the infected people in order to produce a cure. And that we expect to be treated well."

Uhura spoke some more gibberish to the man, who gestured vehemently and sounded a bit upset. After a few minutes of conversation, Uhura frowned and said, "Captain, they want us to take off our suits."

"What?!" Jim and McCoy shouted.

"He says we could be hiding weapons in them," Uhura said, irritated. "And I already assured him we weren't and that they were for our protection so we would not contract the disease."

"What'd he say?" Jim asked.

"He said if we were finding a cure for the disease it didn't matter if we got it too," Uhura answered. "Captain, from what little conversation I've had with him, I don't think we're going to be able to wriggle out of this."

"What should we do, Jim?" McCoy asked, quietly. "We can't stun _everybody_."

There was no real choice. They couldn't go back up to the Enterprise because the disease may have already contaminated them. Jim wouldn't risk the lives of his crew like that. So they were stuck down here, and if they didn't agree to the colonists demands, what then? The colonists wouldn't allow them into their colony, most likely. Would they be able to survive in the desert with only what they'd brought with them for food and water, and absolutely no cover from the heat?

"Uhura, ask what they'll do if we refuse," Jim said.

A brief dialogue exchange later, Uhura said, "He said if we don't take off the suits we won't be allowed into the colony. We'll have to go back the way we came, and if we try to get to the colony, they'll take action against us."

"I don't know what that means but I don't like it," McCoy said. "Why are we helping these people again?"

Jim elbowed McCoy. "Don't you have some kind of doctor's code or something?"

"Yeah, I do. And it doesn't include the people I'm helping killing me," McCoy replied.

"Tell him we agree," Jim said. Uhura and McCoy both looked at him, surprised. "We need to be by the colonists to develop the cure. We can't survive in the desert by ourselves and we can't beam home. So we agree."

They both looked distinctly unhappy but Uhura spoke to the man quickly. He made a sweeping motion. She said, "He wants us to take them off now, before we get any closer to the colony."

Jim reached to his helmet and undid the fastenings, immediately taking it off and putting it in the sand next to him. Then he started undoing the other straps and zippers and weird magnetic edge-things on the suit. Once the thing was off him, he let it fall to the ground. It was expensive, but replaceable, and there was nothing inside of it anyway. Jim looked over to see McCoy and Uhura both almost finished getting out of their own suits. When they were all done, the colonists went to the suits and investigated them. After a few minutes, they said something to the man Uhura had been speaking to.

"What's his name?" Jim asked, nodding at the man who seemed like some kind of leader.

"Kopel," Uhura said. "But I don't think he likes people calling him by it." Jim nodded absently. Kopel exchanged some more words with his men, then he said something to Uhura. She turned to Jim. "He says he knows we must have weapons on us. He wants us to turn them over before we're allowed into the colony. We'll be allowed to keep our other electrical equipment since they think we can't use it anyway. I didn't inform him otherwise."

"Good call," Jim said.

"I really don't like these assholes," McCoy said, fuming.

Jim didn't even hesitate. He reached for his communicator and held it out towards Kopel. "Give them your communicators."

Uhura and McCoy looked blankly at Jim, then at each other, before taking out their communicators and holding them at arm's length for the colonists to take. The men grabbed the communicators and held them carefully, showing them to Kopel. Then Kopel turned around and walked towards the colony, shouting something over his shoulder.

"He wants us to follow him," Uhura said.

"Even I got that," Jim said. They all started walking behind the colonists, who were occasionally looking to check on their progress. It was faster going now that they weren't wearing the awful suits, but the colonists still made incredible time and were stopping at random intervals to allow them to catch up.

"What are we going to do about the suits and communicators?" McCoy asked. "We can't just let them take them."

"It's fine," Jim said. "We'll get them back."

"We're supposed to contact Spock in about four hours," Uhura said. "How are we going to do that now?"

"I said it's _fine_ ," Jim snapped, glaring at her.

Uhura's eyes widened and she clenched her teeth together. "I'm sorry, sir."

Jim exhaled and shook his head. "No, sorry, I shouldn't have said it that way. Let's just focus on finding the cure. Spock will know something's wrong when he doesn't hear from us. I trust him. He'll do the right thing."

"I hope you're right," McCoy said. "Because you do know we're probably infected now and we've got no way of letting anyone know where we are?"

"They're tracking the communicators," Jim said. "They'll have a good guess."

"Let's hope a good guess is enough," McCoy said.

"It will be," Jim said. "I know it."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been thirteen point five hours since the ground team had last made contact with the Enterprise. Jim was now exactly ninety minutes past his check-in time. Spock didn't want to speculate wildly, but a slow sinking feeling had him believing that something had gone wrong on the already dangerous mission. Jim would not miss his check-in unless he was completely unable to signal the Enterprise. That meant one of three events had taken place—either the emitter had broken and they were unable to use electronic equipment (in which case McCoy would be unable to create the cure and the team would be stuck on the planet indefinitely), the team was unable to use their communicators (due to either loss, theft, injury, or carelessness), or the team had met with unexpected troubles which had caused them to become incapacitated. None of the options were particularly encouraging, but the last one was so atrocious Spock had to force himself to think around it.

There were only a few options left to him at this point. He could gather a second team to investigate what had occurred. However, anyone else he beamed down would be as uninformed as he currently was about what had befallen the first team. This meant that either the second team would meet up with the first team and find them healthy and whole but unable to communicate with the Enterprise, in which case the second team would most likely be in the exact same situation with the first team and Spock would still not know what was going on at the colony. Another option was that he could send a second team down with a modified emitter in the hopes they would find the first team healthy and be able to use this device to communicate with the Enterprise. The third option was that something had happened to the first team—most likely either an attack or a natural disaster—and the second team might well meet the same fate. Of course, the one constant was that the disease was still on the planet, and whoever Spock sent down was likely to become infected and would be unable to return to the Enterprise until McCoy developed a cure. This was under the assumption that McCoy was able to develop a cure, which assumed working electronic equipment and his good health, which was not likely given any of the possible scenarios, all of which included either equipment failure or injury, if not both.

The safety of the ship and her crew was Spock's first priority. He would not needlessly risk the lives of crew members. However, he knew he could not leave three of the most vital members of the crew stranded here. There was one option that he kept coming back to, even though Jim had ordered him not to. Strangely, Spock wasn't all that concerned with the thought of disobeying a direct order if he would be able to save Jim from some disastrous fate.

"Mr. Sulu, you have the bridge," Spock said. He looked at Sulu and continued, "I will be beaming down to the planet to ascertain the status of the ground team."

"I'm sure he's all right," Chekov said, soothingly. "The Captain, I mean. He knows how to take care of himself."

Spock briefly glanced at Chekov, who looked away quickly, before continuing. "You are not to beam anyone else down or up without a direct order from either myself or Captain Kirk. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Sulu said. "I'll keep her in orbit until I receive further orders."

"Yes. Unless you come under attack, in which case the safety of this ship and crew are your first priority." Spock raised an eyebrow. "Remember you will be unable to beam the ground team up until Doctor McCoy develops a cure, so staying here if the ship is in danger is illogical."

"Understood," Sulu replied.

"They're all fine," Chekov said. "It's probably just an equipment malfunction."

"I hope you are right, Mr. Chekov," Spock stated. He left the bridge without another word, refusing to dwell for too long on all the other possibilities.

In another three hours, Spock had made another emitter with an arguably better power supply. He had hoped the reason the team couldn't contact them was because the first emitter had broken, in which case bringing another emitter down would solve the problem. He had also packed some supplies in a bag, mostly emergency medical care in case the team was injured and unable to help themselves. On his way to the transporter room and wearing a standard-issue anti-radiation suit, Spock saw the crates of medical supplies still stacked in the hallway and knew they'd eventually be needed on the planet, but for the time being they were simply in the way. He ordered them moved into the nearest empty room and then told Scotty to prepare to beam him down.

"To the same coordinates I used for the first group?" Scotty asked. "Not that it'd do much good at this point, unless you think they stood there for the past sixteen hours staring at each other."

Spock walked onto the transporter platform and put his bag down on the circle next to his. "No. Beam me down one-half mile from the location of the communicators."

"In which direction?"

"Place me on a direct line between the starting point of the ground team and the current location of the communicators."

Scotty adjusted the settings accordingly. Spock had already thought this through, and this was the only reasonable point to start from. If the team was wounded, he did not want to be beamed down too far away to assist them. However, if the team had been captured or attacked, he did not want to beam down directly into a fight or a holding cell. Also, if some type of natural disaster had occurred, one-half mile was a sufficient distance to be relatively sure of his personal safety when he beamed down. Of course, if the communicators had been lost or stolen, it did not matter how far away or close to them he beamed down because their location would then have no bearing on the ground team's current location. If that was the case, he would collect data on the planet's surface and consider his options.

"Ready when you are," Scotty said.

"Beam me down, Mr. Scott."

"Yes, sir."

Seconds later Spock materialized on the surface of the planet. Unfortunately, half a mile from the location of the communicators turned out to be about a quarter of a mile into a lake. Spock began sinking immediately, and instantly adjusted his body to accommodate the added weight of the suit and gear he had brought with him. He began swimming towards the closest shore, finally using the mandatory lessons Starfleet had put him through. His arms and legs moved stiffly but efficiently, getting the job done with power if not finesse or speed. Spock found himself already loathing this planet. What self-respecting desert planet had a lake? Vulcan didn't have a lake. Vulcan had barely had enough water to live off of. This was the main reason why Vulcans were not meant to swim. They lived in the scorching heat near volcanoes. They did not _swim_.

Nevertheless, he found himself swimming. Within a minute he was struggling against the extra weight and bulk of the suit and the gear he carried. After two minutes it was obvious it would be impossible to continue with everything he had. Quickly assessing the situation, Spock realized that not only was the suit the heavier item but also that the supplies were more necessary for the survival of everyone in the team, himself included. Moving quickly, Spock unclasped his helmet and let it fall to the bottom of the lake, twisting around to remove the other straps and fastenings on his suit before shaking it off and letting it fall as well.

Without the suit, it was much easier for him to swim the rest of the way to the shore. He held onto his remaining bag tightly, unwilling to lose it after he had chosen it above his own safety. His communicator and phaser were clutched in his other hand, and overall holding onto everything increased the difficulty of swimming more than he would have preferred. Still, it was better this way than if he would have struggled against the weight of the standard-issue anti-radiation suit and eventually drowned.

Once he reached land, Spock took only a moment to breathe deeply before surveying the area. He was on the outskirts of a group of primitive tents which he immediately realized was the colony. The people were all humanoid, but their skin color and rapid speed made him believe they must have been a hybrid of humans, Orions, and something else. Spock didn't have enough time to raise a hand in greeting before a group of the colonists came angrily towards him, shouting in some unknown language.

Spock hesitated, unsure what the best course of action was. The report had stated these colonists did not understand English, but perhaps they knew Vulcan? Spock tried a few simple sentences and realized they had no idea what he was saying. Without the ability to communicate, it would be impossible to calm them down.

One of the colonists, a woman who was standing in front of the others, gestured quickly at him. Spock did not understand the meaning of the gesture, but three other colonists stepped forward and reached for him. He took a step back, unwilling to harm any sentient being without good reason. Raising his hands in the air, palms towards them, Spock tried to let them know he was harmless.

One of the colonists grabbed the wrists of his hands. Spock struggled against the hold and knew immediately he could break it if he wanted to. They were faster than he was, but he was stronger. Still, it wouldn't be worth it to attempt to get away now when these people most likely knew where the ground team was.

He allowed the colonist to hold onto his wrists. Another colonist grabbed his communicator from his hand, which almost certainly explained why the ground team hadn't been able to contact the Enterprise. Interestingly, they left his phaser and the rest of his equipment. Then, too quickly for him to react, someone reached out and pushed him towards the rest of the colony. Spock made sure he had a good hold on his bag and the phaser while he let himself be shoved along, taking stock in the condition of the colony as he went.

The disease had obviously hit them hard. Not only were some of the colonists moving slower, but there were several whose skin seemed paler and who were clearly disoriented. They walked in uneven lines, feet turned at odd angles, knocking into corners and whatever objects happened to be in their way. Blood stains were apparent on most of their clothing, although Spock couldn't be sure if that was from the disease or if this was a violent culture.

When they reached the far end of the town, directly next to the lake, the colonists stopped outside a tent that was being guarded by two men on either side of the entrance. The only conclusions were that this was either the home of an important official or else the prison. A few words were exchanged and then Spock was pushed through the entrance, which was composed of two simple flaps of cloth.

He stumbled a few steps before regaining his balance, but hands had already caught him and were holding him steady. Spock looked up to see Jim looking at him, relief and fear and something else playing quickly across his face.

"You're wet," Jim said, quietly.

"I was beamed into a lake," Spock said, just as quietly. Jim grinned.

"Spock!" Uhura shouted. She stood up and walked towards them. Jim squeezed Spock's shoulders and then stepped back, allowing Uhura to grab onto his arm and look at him in concern. "What are you doing here? Why're you wet?"

"Could you keep it down?" McCoy asked. He was bent over a small table, inspecting something Spock couldn't see. "I need to concentrate."

Uhura bit her lip and motioned to the opposite corner of the tent, which was as far away as they could get from McCoy and his precarious set-up. Spock took the opportunity to examine the interior of the tent. It wasn't much, even by the standards the colony must have had. The tent was about twenty feet long and wide and perhaps seven feet high. The only furniture was one table with a chair, both of which were being used by McCoy for his experiments. The table was already covered with small machines and a variety of blood samples, with the emitter in the middle of it, whirring softly. The bags Jim, Uhura, and McCoy had brought down with them were piled in one corner near the entrance.

Jim walked over to one of the bags and opened it, bringing out a sheet. He handed it to Spock, still grinning. "Use this."

"Thank you." Spock took the sheet and wrapped it around him. The moisture was already beginning to dry thanks to the high temperature, but drying off wouldn't hurt.

"I'm glad you're here," Uhura said, softly. "But it's dangerous. You shouldn't have come."

"When we did not receive any contact from you, I decided further investigation was required," Spock explained.

"They took our anti-radiation suits and communicators," Uhura said. "You already know that, I know. But we don't know where they're keeping them."

"The colonists took your standard-issue anti-radiation suits," Spock repeated. "That makes sense. I had wondered."

Jim and Uhura looked at him blankly. "So then what happened to your suit?" Uhura asked.

"I removed it when I arrived," Spock replied. At Jim and Uhura's shocked looks, he continued, "It was weighing me down in the lake. It was a choice between the standard-issue anti-radiation suit or the equipment. The suit was heavier and less important to our survival. It was the logical choice." When Jim and Uhura remained quiet, Spock decided to change the subject. Of course he had been unhappy about removing his suit, but there had been no option. "Why did they take the communicators?" he asked, both in order to draw their attention to another line of thought and because he was genuinely curious. "It is completely illogical to collect one piece of harmless electronic equipment and allow us to keep many more which could be used as weapons."

"When they asked for our weapons, the Captain had us give them our communicators," Uhura said.

Spock looked at Jim, who had been uncharacteristically silent for the majority of the time since Spock had arrived. "That was an intelligent move, Captain."

Jim nodded absently. "We'd miss the phasers more if we needed them and didn't have them. I thought you'd figure things out from the ship."

"We needed more data than our instruments were able to provide us," Spock said.

"Okay, but now you've been exposed to the disease," Jim said. "Which we already agreed after the meeting would be a pain for everybody. And if you would have just kept your suit _on_ , we wouldn't have this problem."

"I had to strip my anti-radiation suit off, otherwise I may have drowned," Spock explained. Jim seemed incredibly inattentive for a few moments before he blinked and looked quite disturbed. "It appears I had no choice, Captain."

"You had a choice, Spock," Jim replied, loudly. "There's _always_ a choice."

"Hey, I don't like that he's been exposed either," Uhura said. "But nothing we can do about it now. We need to get some information about this disease."

"It needs a name," Jim said, off-handedly. "Something besides ‘the disease'." He shook his head, frowning. "And anyway, that's not the point. The point is, I told you not to come and you came anyway!"

"Will you shut _up_?" McCoy snapped, glaring at the three of them. "I'm trying to _work_ here."

"I told you not to beam down," Jim repeated, quiet but forceful.

"I know," Spock replied.

"I even made it an order."

"Yes. I disobeyed a direct order from my superior officer," Spock said, calmly. "You should court martial me when we return to the Enterprise."

"Maybe I will," Jim hissed. "You can't just come down here when I already _told_ you not to."

"I deemed it to be a necessary action given the situation," Spock explained. "You had failed to make contact again. We were unable to ascertain what had occurred due to the atmospheric problem this planet presents for our electronic devices. Therefore, I concluded the only logical solution was to take care of the situation personally."

"Oh, you concluded that, did you?" Jim asked, voice rising. "So what, another ground team was a bad idea?"

"The safety of the crew was my responsibility. I could not put any more of them in danger," Spock said.

"What about your own safety? You didn't think about that?" Jim shook his head. "Clearly not since _you took off your own damn suit_."

"Of course my own safety was also considered. However, I concluded it would be best for all involved if I was the only person placed in a potentially harmful situation." Spock paused, attempting to figure out the reason behind Jim's anger but completely unable to do so. Obviously the commanding officer would place the needs of the crew before his own. Jim knew that. Also Spock had already explained his reasoning behind removing his suit. Jim's reaction was completely illogical. "I ordered Mr. Sulu not to allow anyone to beam down to or up from the planet without a direct order from you or myself."

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't have beamed down either," Jim said. "You should've waited until you knew more."

"Since you did not communicate with us on time, I was forced to conclude you were unable to do so. There was no other way to gather any extra information. You are aware of this." Spock raised an eyebrow at Jim and tilted his head, questioning. "If you are unhappy with how I handled the situation, please instruct me how you would have proceeded."

"That's not the fucking _point_ ," Jim snapped. "What if you get infected now, huh? What am I supposed to do _then_?"

"I assume you would do the same thing you would do if I had not beamed down," Spock replied, becoming impatient with this entire line of questioning. Jim had no other suggestions and Spock had done the logical thing. What was the problem? "Wait for Doctor McCoy to develop the cure and take it when he does."

"Look, I'm trying to be calm here, but you're making it impossible," Jim said. "If you would have just kept your suit on—"

"The colonists would have removed my suit if I had not done so," Spock said. "Holding onto the equipment was the correct decision."

"The equipment isn't worth your _life_ ," Jim said, shaking his head. "And now what? You get this disease just like the rest of us?"

"Since there is a high probability I have already contracted the disease, there is no use arguing this matter any further," Spock replied. "Doctor McCoy is working on a cure. I will wait for him to complete his job and take the medicine he will provide us all with."

"What if he can't make the right strain of it in time?" Jim asked, loudly. "Then what? I'm supposed to sit here and watch you _die_?" Jim shoved Spock in his shoulder, hard, bruising. "Screw you, Spock. _Screw you_."

It was so obvious then that Spock felt like an idiot for not seeing it before. "Everyone had the same chance when they came down here. I'm not the only one who could die." Spock looked directly at Jim, trying to get his point across as clearly as possible. "Everyone knew the risk for this mission. I am not the only one in danger."

"No!" Jim shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. "You're right, you're not! We're all equally _fucked_! But you're the only one I—"

" _Jim_! Shut the fuck _up_!" McCoy shouted, slamming his hands down on the table. "If you want to get off this godforsaken planet filled with _assholes_ before we _die_ , then dammit, let me _work_!"

Jim was immediately silent and contrite. Uhura was still sitting on the sidelines, pretending not to be avidly spying on their conversation. The sheet was still around Spock's shoulders, but he took it off and handed it to Jim wordlessly. Jim took it but didn't say anything either, just looked at Spock unhappily. Jim wasn't listening to sense. It might have been the first sign of the disease—paranoia or increased anger. Both Jim and McCoy had shown signs of it since Spock had arrived. However, Spock also knew Jim was an emotional man. Assuming he had already been worried about their chances for survival before Spock beamed down, it was possible the addition of one more life to be responsible for had simply been too much for Jim to handle. Unlikely, but possible. There was no other logical explanation for Jim's behavior.

Without anything else to do and in an attempt to avoid further altercations with Jim, Spock walked over to McCoy. It was clear the man was under severe pressure. He was the only person available with the knowledge needed to save them all from literal certain death. The tools at his disposal were not able to function at their full capacity thanks to the harsh atmosphere, even with the emitter running. He was being treated like a prisoner when he had only come to save the colonists. Anyone would have conflicted emotions about this situation, and although McCoy was the best doctor Spock had ever known, he was also friends with Jim with all that implied. Spock did not pause to consider the hypocrisy of that thought when it occurred to him. He simply mentally re-phrased. McCoy was high-strung and dramatic in normal situations. It was no surprise he was agitated now.

"Doctor McCoy, perhaps I may be of some assistance to you." Spock stood at the other side of the table in order to face McCoy. "I have very little medical knowledge, however I am quite adept when working with electronics. Also, I learn at a faster rate than most humans."

McCoy looked at Spock, surprised. "Why not? Here, take a look at this."

"Certainly." Spock moved to stand next to McCoy, prepared to help in any way he could.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spock hated the thought of being in command. He didn't mind taking control of the ship when Jim was otherwise engaged, but being the Captain was something Spock absolutely knew he would not be able to tolerate. He was able to make quick decisions when they were based solely on facts. On a normal mission, though, there always ended up being some problem that he would have made worse if he had been in charge of resolving it. Many beings they encountered did not have the same ideals of logic and separation from emotional responses that he had. This meant some beings were simply more suited to communicating with someone who not only could make a quick and accurate decision, but who could also sympathize with them on a personal level. Spock knew his inability to do the latter as effectively as most species preferred would make him a terrible Captain.

What was incredibly puzzling about this was that Jim did not seem to understand just how good he was at his job. His ability to encourage crew members while acknowledging their mistakes was something Spock had very rarely encountered among any commanding officers. Almost the entire crew had a positive opinion of Jim, with the exception of a few people who Spock suspected simply enjoyed complaining. That was extraordinary. It was unheard of. Most commanding officers were considered favorably by about seventy-three point eight percent of their crew. Jim's approval rating was most likely around ninety-two point four.

That opinion was not without obtained without work. Spock was well aware that Jim was consistently, tirelessly amicable with everyone he passed. He had an active interest in the daily activities of the crew, and although the monotonous aspects of his job bored him, Jim usually found other work that was equally important which he threw himself into with enthusiasm. Spock had no problem looking over the reports Jim left unfinished. He was better with details than Jim was, and a good First Officer was one who knew how to complement the Captain effectively.

Spock was certain he was a good First Officer. He prided himself on his ability to do his job quickly and competently, without the extra hassle or arguments he had seen other First Officers give their Captains. He knew when to give his opinion and he knew when to be silent. Most importantly, he knew when Jim needed him and when he would only get in the way. Although Jim always valued his opinion, Spock was well aware that there were times when Jim needed to handle situations himself. It was simply a matter of letting Jim plunge headfirst into danger and deciding whether to follow him in or to stay back and wait for him, ready to help him deal with whatever consequences came their way.

What Spock never told anyone, and hardly even admitted to himself, was that there was a part of him that didn't care what Jim wanted. A small part that was growing larger every day had revolted against all his logic. It forced him into irrational behavior like arguing with Jim in front of other people or poking fun at him when they were on the bridge. Spock didn't know what was causing this phenomenon, but he knew he didn't like it and wanted it to stop. Engaging in such emotional actions was always shameful, but there was an extra level of horror when he was supposed to be working. It was as if Jim had somehow managed to strip away Spock's self-control simply by being _there_. Spock knew he had to learn to deal with this, and quickly, because he had no intentions of leaving the Enterprise or ending his friendship with Jim. The problem was somewhere within his mind. He alone would solve it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Night was falling slowly, the light ebbing away in such small amounts Jim could barely tell the difference. But he knew they'd arrived when it was dark and so even without checking he knew almost one full day had passed. He wondered how the Enterprise was doing, how long it took before infected people started showing symptoms of the disease, what exactly those symptoms were, and how McCoy and Spock were progressing with figuring out a cure. He also made a mental note to give Scotty a raise. Anyone who conspired to get Spock wet and stripping was doing a superb job, in Jim's humble and completely unbiased opinion.

Mostly though, the same question played over and over again through his head. What had he planned on saying? Jim couldn't stop wondering. Before McCoy had cursed him out, he had been about to say something. He had started it with "you're the only one I" and he had no idea what was supposed to come next. What could he possibly say to finish that statement? Spock was the only one he… what? Jim knew himself, and he knew what he'd been thinking recently. He only hoped the end to that sentence wouldn't have been "want to fuck." That wouldn't have gone over well with _anyone_ there. Jim didn't enjoy the idea of dying surrounded by people who were ticked at him because he couldn't control his mouth. Still, even knowing the ridiculous sort of shit he usually said, Jim thought there was no way he'd have ended the sentence that way. It had been the tone of his voice when he'd said it. Too passionate, too upset—he had definitely been thinking about something else, something more important than sex. If there was such a thing.

Jim rolled his eyes at his mental slut. Of course there were more important things than sex. Lots of them, actually. It was just that he'd be hard pressed to find one of them that fit as the ending to his unfinished sentence that _also_ did not apply to either McCoy or Uhura. There were a few other options that made a bit more sense, but most of them didn't work out. Spock was the only one he liked. But that wasn't true. Jim liked McCoy a whole lot and he liked Uhura just fine, when she wasn't telling him off. "Want," maybe? But he wanted McCoy as a friend and Uhura as his xenolinguist. Same thing with "need," "depend on," "care about," "confide in," and "trust." All of those worked for McCoy, and most of them worked for Uhura, too. "Feel responsible for," "need to protect," "want to be safe"—check, check, check. For the life of him, Jim couldn't figure out what it was he had planned on saying. Except for the obvious one word that he was intentionally avoiding because that would be ridiculous and too soon and way out of line and also kind of really not heterosexual. Besides that one word, nothing else worked.

Once that thought hit him, Jim decided it was a good time to do something else. He walked over to Uhura and asked, "Do we have any kind of light?"

Uhura looked up at him, blinking slowly. "Um, no? I don't think so. Why?"

Jim frowned. "Because in a few minutes it's going to be too dark for them to work."

Uhura looked at Spock and McCoy for a moment before turning to Jim and shrugging. "I don't know what to tell you. We didn't bring any lights. The colonists might have some, if you want me to ask them."

Jim hesitated briefly before nodding. "Do it. Without lights, we're going to be stuck here doing nothing."

Uhura got up and walked to the entrance, opening it and speaking quickly to one of the people guarding it. After almost two minutes she let the flap fall shut and sat back down next to Jim's leg.

"They don't know what a light is," Uhura said. "I explained it to her and she thought I was crazy."

"That makes sense," Spock said. "The fact that electronic equipment does not work here implies that the original colonists would have used those devices for something else. Younger members of this colony might not even know what a light looks like."

Jim nodded. "I didn't think about that, but you're right." He rolled his eyes. "Obviously."

"Saying Spock's right is a bit like saying your uniform is yellow," McCoy stated.

"It's gold," Jim corrected him.

"It looks yellow to me," McCoy replied.

"Can you imagine?" Uhura asked. "The people born here haven't used anything electrical their entire lives." She shook her head. "But then again, that's why we could convince them that communicators were phasers."

"No, that was my genius," Jim said.

"Doctor McCoy," Spock said, slowly. "I believe we should stop working now."

"We've got a few more minutes of light," McCoy said. "I'm working until I have to stop."

Jim looked over at them to find Spock standing still and watching McCoy warily. "As you know, the emitter is a fragile machine," Spock stated. "Keeping it on when we are unable to take full advantage of it is illogical."

"You said you'd brought another one," McCoy replied. "If this one breaks, we'll use that one."

"Of course," Spock agreed. "However, I do not believe there is a good reason to speed the process along. We should use each emitter to our full advantage."

"Look, we don't know how long this disease takes to spread and show itself," McCoy said, speaking quickly. "I'm not going to waste time doing nothing when I could be working."

Jim sighed. "Bones, stop for now."

" _Jim_ —"

"You know he's right," Jim said, cutting McCoy off. "If you don't stop I'm going to have to make it an order and it's going to piss everybody off. Do you really want to spend all night in uncomfortable silence?"

"Fine," McCoy said, sharply.

" _Bones_ —"

"What, I said fine, not fuck off," McCoy responded. He flicked the emitter off and the constant whirring sound stopped, leaving the four of them in near darkness and sudden awkward silence. There was a bit of shuffling around and luckily the tent was small enough that Jim was able to see what was going on. McCoy had sat down near the table. Spock was sitting next to Jim, who was almost directly across from McCoy. Uhura was sitting on the other side of Spock, in between him and McCoy. The silence seemed to grow louder with each second that passed, and when Jim realized he had been listening to Spock breathe for the past minute he sighed.

"Well, this is fun," Jim said.

"I hate you," Uhura said.

"You don't mean it," Jim replied. "We just need to find a way to pass the time before we go to sleep, that's all."

"So what's your suggestion, _Captain_?" McCoy asked.

It only took a second for an idea to come to him. "Let's play the alphabet game," Jim said.

"Oh God." McCoy put his head in his hands.

"No, really, it'll be fun," Jim continued, nodding to himself. "Here, I'll start. I see something…" He looked around, eyes resting on Spock who was sitting next to him, staring straight ahead. "Pointed."

The silence was so profound Jim thought the rest of them may have all died.

"Oh my _God_ ," Uhura said, shaking her head in dismay. "I can't even begin to say how many things are wrong with what you just said."

"What?" Jim asked, affronted.

"Well, first off, that's not the alphabet game," she continued, scowling. "That's I Spy, you _dimwit_."

"Hey," Jim said, frowning. "I'm your Captain, you can't talk to me like that."

"Second," Uhura said, completely ignoring Jim's comment, "in I Spy, you say what color something is, not the shape."

"I've played it with shapes before," McCoy stated.

"Well, I haven't," Uhura replied.

"Oh, so what, now you're the alphabet game _god_?" Jim asked, scoffing. "You think you can just change the rules because you say so?"

"That's not the damn alphabet game," Uhura said, fuming. "And it's wrong to point out things on people, everybody knows that."

"Would you just relax?" Jim said, frowning. "It's just a game, seriously."

"Spock's ears," McCoy said.

Jim grinned. "McCoy got it!" He gestured to McCoy with a wave of his hand. "Now it's your turn."

McCoy stared straight at Jim. "I see something stupid."

"Uhura!" Jim shouted, pointing at her. She grit her teeth. "Oh, I'm sorry, Nyota. It's Nyota, isn't it?"

"I am going to _kill you_ ," Uhura seethed.

"That's mutiny," Jim said, shaking his head. "And also just not nice."

"Captain Kirk," Spock said.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"Yeah? What is it?" Jim asked.

"The answer to McCoy's question in the game is Captain Kirk. He is the stupid thing McCoy sees," Spock replied, monotone.

Uhura and McCoy burst out laughing. Jim blinked, staring at Spock.

"You think I'm stupid?" Jim frowned.

"No," Spock answered. "However you are the answer to this round. Logically." He paused before continuing, "The word stupid indicated a sentient being, since only sentient beings are able to have thought and therefore have levels of intelligence. The four of us are the only sentient beings in this tent, and since we are only able to see what is inside of this tent, that clearly indicates Doctor McCoy must have been referring to one of us. Doctor McCoy would not refer to himself as something that is stupid, and it is debatable about how much of himself he can see from his own viewpoint. Although I do not know the exact rules of this game, it seems as though the speaker must see either the entirety or the majority of the object which is seen. Therefore, it was not Doctor McCoy. Obviously, the stupid thing was not myself, given my high intelligence. By process of elimination, that left Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Uhura. Of the two, Lieutenant Uhura has the higher intelligence, and so the only possible answer was Captain Kirk." Spock paused once more, pondering. "Although I still do not understand how you can see stupidity. I assume this was a joke of some kind."

Jim stared at Spock, looked at McCoy and Uhura and saw they were staring at Spock, and then said, "You know, somehow I think you just insulted all of us and sucked the fun out of the game at the same time."

"Human ways are a mystery to me," Spock said, archly and with no relevance.

They played through a few more rounds until everyone agreed they needed to sleep before they all went insane. Jim had enjoyed the game, but of course he always enjoyed spending time with Spock and McCoy. Even Uhura's constant negative comments hadn't ruined it for him. Actually, some of them had even made him laugh.

McCoy, Spock, and Uhura got their blankets out of their bags and laid them on the ground where they had been sitting. Jim reached for his own blanket and found it right where he had left it after Spock had used it to dry off. Except now it smelled sort of funky and was wrinkled in weird places and had some sand caked onto it that must have come off of Spock's clothes, which were actually probably in a similar state.

Jim sighed and let the blanket fall to the ground. The floor of the tent was the same cloth the rest of it was made out of, so it wouldn't be impossible to sleep on. Just uncomfortable. He could live with that.

"Jim," Spock whispered. Jim looked over to see McCoy and Uhura lying down, still attempting to get comfortable but obviously trying to sleep.

"Yeah?"

Spock gestured to the blanket he had laid out on the ground. "Use the other half of this blanket."

Jim shook his head, sure the disease had struck him first and he was hallucinating. "I'm sorry, I thought you just said something you couldn't have possibly said."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I said to use the other half of this blanket. It is my fault your own blanket is unusable. The most logical solution is for us to share the remaining blanket as opposed to one of us sleeping on only the floor."

"I'm sorry, I hallucinated again." Jim blinked slowly, concentrating. "Say it _one_ more time."

"If you do not wish to share the blanket, then—"

"Oh, no," Jim said, quickly, waving a hand at Spock. "No. It's good. It's very good with me."

Spock laid down on his half of the blanket, leaving enough room for Jim to lie down next to him. The blanket was actually large enough that it could probably fit three people side by side with room between them. It was made specifically for unknown conditions, and having a large size was a part of that. It could be used to collect water, wrapped around someone for warmth, or cut into strips for bandages. So in reality, Spock offering Jim one-half of his blanket was not really a big deal.

Jim knew that. Really, he did. But he also knew this was going to be the closest he'd get to sleeping with Spock in, well, _ever_. Sure, there'd be no actual touching or anything, but what did _that_ matter? He'd be able to fall asleep and wake up next to Spock. It was more than good enough for Jim. He'd be able to see Spock's bedhead. It would be _awesome_.

There was also a small part of his mind that was quite diligently informing him that Spock could have shared a blanket with Uhura and given Jim one to himself, but he didn't. He chose to let Uhura have her own blanket and share with Jim. What did that imply if not Spock's secret burning completely heterosexual desire for him? Definitely it implied that and not some kind of chivalrous act to allow the only woman to have her own blanket, which would be both sexist and incredibly lame.

Jim abruptly laid down, knowing if he waited any longer it'd be even worse. Spock was facing away from him, towards the far wall, but that was okay. Jim laid on his back and looked over at Spock, taking the time to catalogue a few things he'd only had the chance to glance at before. He let his eyes graze over the hard line of Spock's back, softer now than it usually was but still rigid, even when he was relaxed to fall asleep, as if his guard was up all the time. His shoulders were distinct at that specific angle, and even his shoulder blades stood out against the thin fabric of his shirt. His hair blended into the darkness, smoothly, so much so that Jim had to squint to separate the two. Yet the thin sliver of the back of Spock's neck stood out like a banner, bright and pale against the dark colors that surrounded it. His legs were spread only slightly apart, feet pointing down and out, and Jim wondered if that was comfortable for him or if he had been taught that sleeping in contorted knots with arms and legs flailing everywhere was illogical. Maybe it was both.

Jim swallowed thickly. What was he doing? He needed to sleep. They were on a mission, and it was a dangerous one that had an actual chance of them all dying. McCoy was stressed to the point of freaking out. Uhura was bored to tears and had decided this was Jim's fault. Spock wasn't even supposed to be here. The people they were trying to help were the most ungrateful group of dumbshits Jim had ever seen. They didn't know how fast the disease struck or what the symptoms were. Now was the time for him to focus on the mission.

But he wouldn't ever have this chance again. And he was so curious. Did Spock move around in his sleep? Did he twitch or roll or maybe even mumble to himself? What were Spock's dreams like? Were they different now, after the Vulcan Massacre, than they had been before? Were they better or worse? Did he remember them when he woke up? Did he notice the difference?

Jim suddenly realized he wasn't getting to sleep any time soon. This was one of the few times he would have Spock available to ask whatever he wanted, and he couldn't think of a single good reason not to try. He looked to the opposite wall, where Uhura and McCoy were lying, but they both looked asleep. Their breathing had evened out and their bodies were in more relaxed positions. Satisfied that their conversation would remain private, Jim decided he may as well see if Spock was still awake.

"Spock," Jim whispered. He reached out and tapped Spock's arm a few times. " _Spock_."

"What is it?" Spock replied, speaking just as quietly.

Jim hesitated. "Nothing, really," he said, deciding to go for honesty. "I just wanted to talk to you."

Spock rolled onto his side, facing Jim. His eyes were too bright in the otherwise dark tent. They had been sleeping fairly close together already, but now they were less than a foot apart. Jim swallowed, struck by how much darkness suited Spock. The shadows made his face seem more elegant than it did in daylight. One of his arms was pillowing his head and the other was resting in between them, only a few inches away from Jim's face. He could see Spock's fingers lying there, resting gently against the ground, and it took every ounce of willpower he had to not reach out and touch them.

"What would you like to talk about?" Spock asked, voice still quiet.

"You… you don't mind?" Jim replied, slightly unsure now that his plan had actually worked. "I mean, I'm not bothering you or anything?"

"No, Jim," Spock stated. "You never bother me."

Jim grinned, then briefly turned his head to the side to hide his expression, feeling embarrassed and happy and completely idiotic. Did the disease cause mental lapses? He'd have to ask McCoy. The other option was that he really _was_ acting like a twelve-year-old girl, and that couldn't be it. There was _no way_ that was it.

"Oh. Okay." There was a moment where he thought he'd have to make some kind of stupid conversation before he remembered something he'd been curious about. He hesitated, not wanting to cause Spock any discomfort, but if they were all going to die here then he wanted to know as much as he could before he went—even though it wouldn't matter because he wouldn't be around long enough to care. "Um, so I've been wondering… and you know, if I'm totally out of line, you can just tell me to shut up—"

"Jim," Spock said, cutting him off. "Simply asking would be much more efficient."

Jim found himself staring at Spock's face, at the way his mouth tilted so that, from this angle, it almost looked like he was smiling. "All right," he whispered. "I was wondering what it was like. Vulcan, I mean. How… how life was there, I guess. How _your_ life was there."

Spock remained silent for a while, for so long that Jim thought he'd overstepped his bounds. He'd hoped that Spock would tell him something, even something small, because Jim found that he had no knowledge of Spock's life before Starfleet. It mattered, what he'd done before the Academy. Whatever his life had been on Vulcan, whatever had happened—those things were what had shaped Spock, had made him into the man he was today. Jim wanted to know, but he didn't want to bring up bad memories.

"Sorry, forget it," Jim said, waving a hand. He was on his side as well, facing Spock with one arm propping him up, leaning on that elbow with his head on his hand. "I shouldn't have asked."

"No. I am glad you asked," Spock replied, speaking slowly.

"You… are?"

"Yes." Spock breathed slowly, rhythmically, and Jim found his eyes drawn to the movement of his chest. "The only way Vulcan culture will be known from now on is if it is discussed. I have no desire to see that way of life forgotten."

"Oh," Jim said, nodding once. He'd hoped it was a bit more personal of a reason, but he would take what he could get.

"You must also know by now that I would answer any question you ask me," Spock continued. "Your wish to learn about Vulcan pleases me. You did not have to worry about asking me this."

"Okay," Jim said, feeling the edges of his smile soften. "So tell me something."

Spock pursed his lips together, obviously deep in thought. Jim was content to wait, knowing Spock was going through so many memories that it would be hard to choose only a few to talk about. He couldn't imagine what he would choose if he had to describe his own life, on Earth.

"One of the first aspects of human life which surprised me was how the education system is organized," Spock said, continuing to whisper as they both had been doing, but still able to put some enthusiasm into his words. Jim couldn't help smiling. Of course Spock would get all excited over school. "You will most likely be unsurprised to learn that Vulcans consider education the most vital aspect of growing into maturity. In fact, Vulcans spend every day in school for at least ten hours and usually much longer than that."

"You're right, that doesn't surprise me," Jim replied.

Spock nodded. "On Vulcan, students were taught by computers. The student stood in a half-spherical indentation in the floor." His hand gestured briefly in midair, as if he was attempting to form a shape out of nothing. Jim had a slightly better impression of what that half-spherical indentation had looked like. "The facts the student was memorizing were displayed along the walls of this structure. There were always a variety of complex exercises for the student to learn at the same time."

"Wow. Computers for teachers," Jim said, wondering abstractly exactly how a room full of Vulcan students would have looked and wishing it still existed so he could see it. "No teacher more logical."

"Indeed no," Spock agreed. "Even a Vulcan is able to make an occasional mistake."

"Shocking," Jim said, sarcasm overflowing off the word.

"That is why computers are the best teachers," Spock explained. "Any error, no matter how small, in a student's education would impede the end result. Computers are the only way to be certain."

"No, I get it," Jim said. "Makes sense and all." He stopped, rearranging his head on his arm and wriggling around a bit to try and get more comfortable. Spock stared at him, waiting for him to continue. "So what else? What should I know about Vulcan life?"

"Vulcans have fifty-three different variations of chess," Spock stated, calmly.

" _Fifty-three_?" Jim repeated, struck by how ridiculous the variations must be.

"Yes. There is one variation called No Man's Land," Spock began, eyes lighting up. "In it, the pawns are all taken off the board and the rest of the pieces are all marked as queens."

Jim's eyes widened. "That's sixteen queens to deal with."

"Simple addition is truly your greatest achievement," Spock deadpanned.

"Well, it had to be _something_ ," Jim said, rolling his eyes.

Spock nodded. "Of course. In No Man's Land, the objective is to capture all of your opponent's pieces, exactly how it is in regular chess. However, the players must stay on the spaces matching the color of their own pieces. Also, the players must move an even number of spaces every turn."

"That sounds… incredibly complicated," Jim said.

"There is also a variant of No Man's Land called Traitor," Spock said.

"This doesn't surprise me, either," Jim replied in a monotone.

Spock shook his head, and Jim saw more fondness than agitation in the movement. "The rules are exactly the same except that, as opposed to conquering the opposing side, the players must attempt to convert the opposing pieces to their own sides by forcing them to cross the entire board twice."

"Why do I have this sinking feeling that I'm going to be playing these with you?" Jim asked, but he was smiling to show Spock he was only teasing.

"I can assure you I will not go easy on you simply because you are a beginner," Spock said.

Jim laughed, keeping it quiet. "I figured." He drummed his fingers against the blanket. "So what else? Besides school and chess?"

Spock's breathing evened out a bit, and Jim watched him for a moment, wondering if he had said something wrong. "The lowest temperature ever recorded on Vulcan translates into roughly one hundred and two point three eight degrees Fahrenheit."

"Roughly," Jim repeated, grinning.

"It was a quick conversion," Spock said, defending himself. His eyes drifted closed. "Everything was hot, even the air people breathed. Yet this was normal. The heat was not stifling or unwanted. It was comforting."

"Do you miss it?" The second the question was out of Jim's mouth, his eyes widened and he shook his head. "No, forget it, sorry, stupid question, I mean, _obviously_ you—"

"Yes," Spock replied. "I miss it. However, I never truly belonged there. It was the planet my body and mind lived on."

"And your… heart? Soul? Emotions that you try not to have?" Jim stopped, letting his words sink in. "Where do those live?"

"I am not sure," Spock stated. He looked Jim directly in the eyes. "I will let you know when I discover that answer."

Jim nodded. "Okay." He titled his head to a different angle and shuffled his feet around a little. Spock still hadn't moved all that much from his first position. Jim wondered if he was going to just stay like that forever. "You know, I'm not trying to offend you or anything here," Jim said. "If you think I'm overstepping my bounds or something, sticking my nose where it doesn't belong, whatever, just tell me. I mean, I _am_ wondering about it, but that doesn't mean you have to tell me anything you don't want to."

"Jim," Spock started, pausing immediately afterwards to collect his thoughts. "I believe you have given this matter more consideration and respect than anyone else on this ship, myself excluded. You do not have to justify yourself to me."

"Oh," Jim said, surprised. "I… really? I don't think… I mean, if _you_ think so, then I guess… but really, I'm only thinking about it _because_ of you so it's not really…"

Spock shook his head. "I am honored that you are attached to this tragedy even though your only direct link to Vulcan is through me." One corner of his mouth curved upwards. "It is a sign of your devotion to our friendship. Thank you."

"Oh, uh, you're welcome," Jim said, awkwardly. "But you don't have to thank me."

They lapsed into silence then. Jim wondered what he should say next, or even if it was his place to say anything at all. He had spoken last, after all, and if Spock wanted to continue the conversation surely he would. Maybe this was Spock's subtle way of letting him know they were done talking. Before Jim could ask just to be sure, Spock reached out and gently tapped on Jim's arm. He pulled his hand back immediately afterwards, but Jim felt as though that one section of his skin was suddenly beautifully alive while everything else was fading into the background, unnecessary and unimportant.

"I believe it is now your turn," Spock said. "I admit I am curious about your own past experiences."

"Ah," Jim said, carefully neutral. He hadn't thought about this, but it _was_ only fair. "Well, ask me something."

"What were your experiences as a child growing up without a father?" Spock asked, slowly. "I cannot imagine my father being absent in my life considering the incredible impact he has had on it."

"Hm," Jim said, pausing. "I'm not sure I can explain it. It's like, he was never there, so there was nothing to miss." That wasn't entirely right, though, and Jim wanted to be as honest as he could. "But there was this… shadow, I guess, or like some kind of huge idea or expectation hanging over me. You know? Like everyone knew him and expected I'd be like him, but then…"

"Then?" Spock asked, quietly.

"I wasn't," Jim finished.

"You do not believe you have fulfilled the expectations others have placed on you?" Spock asked. There were a few moments of silence, during which time all Jim could think was how obvious it was that he hadn't done anything anyone had ever wanted him to. "Jim, you are the Captain of a starship. Not many others can say the same."

"It's not that," Jim said, hesitantly. "I don't know if I can explain it."

"You do not have to explain it to me now, if you are unprepared," Spock said. "I apologize. I should not have assumed—"

"No, it's okay, you can assume whatever you want with me," Jim quickly interrupted him. "But I don't know if I can get the idea across to you right. And I mean, I want to get it right."

Spock nodded, eyes skimming over Jim's face. Jim noticed the movement and felt himself hold still. "Then perhaps it is best not to discuss this yet." Spock's eyes softened, growing warmer. "I will be here when you are ready."

"Yeah, okay," Jim agreed. "Thanks."

"You are most welcome," Spock replied. "Good night, Jim."

"Night, Spock," Jim said. "Don't let the weird unidentified space disease bite."

Several beats of silence followed his comment. "I assume that is a human expression?"

"Kind of," Jim said. "Edited for accuracy."

"I see," Spock replied.

"No," Jim said. "You don't."

Spock laughed once, softly, so unexpected and shocking that Jim stared at him for a few seconds before smiling. "No," Spock agreed. "I don't."

After that Spock closed his eyes and Jim found himself doing the same. He fell asleep almost immediately, unaware there were two sets of wide eyes locked in a promise of secret silence on the other side of the room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spock had no idea that humans were able to get into such contorted positions while deeply unconscious. He had never slept next to anyone before, but he had seen other people sleeping, and none of them had even come close to moving the way Jim did. First of all, Jim's limbs were making a desperate attempt at escaping from his torso. His arms and legs were spread as far as they could go, bent at odd angles as if they could be free if they only kept on twisting. This might have amused Spock under normal conditions. However, Jim had started the night sleeping less than two feet away from him and had somehow managed to end it with half of his body sprawled over Spock. Even that wouldn't have been a huge problem if Jim hadn't been all sharp angles and jerky movements. One of his legs was covering Spock's right leg and had burrowed beneath his left leg, finally ending with Jim's ankle hooked around Spock's leg a few inches below his knee. Both of Jim's arms were in Spock's personal space—one was haphazardly thrown across his torso and the other was obviously meant to be pillowing Jim's head, but of course this ended in disaster with Jim's elbow resting right next to Spock's nose so that every time Spock moved his head he ended up getting poked in the eye.

Spock had no idea how he had ended up like this, since he had gone to sleep and woken up lying in the exact same position. Obviously this was all Jim's fault. Spock wanted to get up to start working on the cure, but Jim was all over him and he wasn't entirely sure how to go about removing the man without waking him up. Sure, he was strong enough to get Jim off him no problem. It was actually difficult _not_ to move in a way that would cause Jim discomfort, given how his leg was tangled in-between Spock's own and his hand seemed content to bury itself in Spock's shirt, fingers twisting around the material.

"'S ho'," Jim mumbled, wriggling uncomfortably.

Spock inhaled and exhaled once, deeply, attempting to remain calm. They were stuck on a desert planet and Jim was pressed against Spock, who had a higher body temperature than humans did. Of course it would be hot for him. Was it really too much to ask for Jim to not make ridiculous comments while sleeping?

"Spock?" McCoy asked, quietly. "You up?"

"Yes, Doctor," Spock replied. "Have you started working on the cure?"

"No, I've been standing here watching you and Jim _cuddle_ ," McCoy said, rolling his eyes.

Spock hesitated. He tilted his head at a painful angle for a few seconds until he could make out McCoy bent over the table, working next to the emitter which was happily murmuring away. It was incredibly unlikely that McCoy had been watching them sleep. That comment must have been sarcastic. "I offered to share my blanket with him and he accepted," Spock explained. "It was the only logical course of action since—"

"Sure," McCoy interrupted. "But I don't really care right now. Are you going to help me with this or not?"

"I will assist you in a moment," Spock stated.

It took a few minutes, but Spock was eventually able to disentangle himself from Jim and stand up. He walked over to McCoy, rolling his shoulders, feeling the minor aches of sleeping on the ground get worse as he moved. "How far have you progressed?"

Almost an hour later Uhura woke up. She immediately seemed to move a bit slower than usual, but Spock brushed that off as a mixture of boredom and idleness. With nothing to do and all day to do it, anyone would take their time. She rolled up her blanket and put it away, walking around the tent a few times to amuse herself. Almost an hour after that, Jim finally sat up, stretching and yawning, kicking his feet idly out in front of him. Spock didn't even spare a glance at him, knowing Jim would only take that as permission to interrupt their work with questions designed to alleviate his boredom. Spock and McCoy had made good progress, eliminating over two hundred possible combinations of the medical supplies due to various ill effects or having no effect on the disease, but there were still plenty more to check. They didn't have time to worry about entertaining Jim and Uhura.

As the hours passed, Spock knew he was being of less and less use. He had completed all the steps that McCoy did not need to personally oversee. He didn't have the medical knowledge to run tests on the other samples himself, which left him standing there occasionally handing McCoy something or briefly checking the emitter for potential problems. However, there was nothing else to do in the tent, so unless he felt as though he was impeding McCoy's progress, Spock would stay just in case he was needed.

Or at least, that was his intention. But about two hours after they had eaten lunch, which was a spare helping of the food they had brought with them, Uhura began to behave oddly. She started walking even slower than she had been, pausing before taking each step as though she had to concentrate incredibly hard to do it. After a few minutes she sat down, slumped against her bag, and closed her eyes, breathing irregularly. Spock exchanged a glance with McCoy, then with Jim. McCoy's mouth tightened and he continued to work, concentrating on his task. Jim walked over to Uhura and knelt in front of her, saying something too quietly for Spock to hear. He paused a few moments and then got up and walked to stand next to Spock.

"She wants you," Jim said, shortly. "She's shivering, says she feels cold."

Spock glanced at Jim, but he was looking down at the table, suddenly absorbed in what McCoy was working on. "Uhura requested my presence?"

Jim shuffled his feet. "Not exactly," he hedged. "But you should go anyway. I mean, I know I… well, she wants you there."

"I see," Spock said. He turned to McCoy, who was cursing under his breath, obviously displeased with the result of his last test. "Do you require my assistance here, Doctor?"

"What?" McCoy asked, looking up briefly before going back to his work and waving a hand in Spock's general direction. "No, it's fine, just leave me be."

Spock hesitated, unsure if he would be more helpful helping Uhura or McCoy. Then Jim laid a hand on his arm and said, "Just go, okay? I'll stay here in case Bones needs anything."

Spock nodded and walked over to Uhura, sitting beside her in one swift movement. She leaned against him and he could immediately feel how low her body temperature was. Reaching behind them, Spock grasped the edge of his blanket and pulled it closer, maneuvering so that he was able to wrap her in it. Then he put his arm around her and drew her closer, knowing his own body heat combined with the natural temperature of the planet was the best combination they currently had available to maximize heat.

"You came," Uhura said. "I thought you were working with McCoy."

"I was under the impression you wanted me here," Spock replied.

"I do," she said, slowly. "Thanks. I feel all screwed up."

"Rest for now," Spock said.

Uhura was still shivering against him, but she slowly started to calm down. Spock was already thinking about what he would do if someone else got sick. If it was Jim, it wouldn't be so bad, since Spock could use his other arm and then both of them would get the warmth they needed from him. But McCoy needed to be free to work on the cure, and that would mean Spock would have to choose between them, and that was something he'd rather not consider. Technically, Spock would be able to stand next to McCoy while he worked and put an arm around his shoulders, but Spock also had doubts about just how much work McCoy would be able to get done if he started having the symptoms Uhura was currently showing. With any sort of luck, McCoy would finish the cure soon and they wouldn't even have to worry about it.

Uhura mumbled a little, half-asleep, and Spock decided to let her rest. Nothing could be gained from waking her. Jim was still by the table watching McCoy, although he darted an occasional furtive glance towards them. Spock was able to catch his eye when he was looking their way. He raised an eyebrow interrogatively, but Jim looked quickly away without replying.

Instead of worrying about the rest of them contracting the disease or Jim's confusing behavior, Spock decided to clear his mind and meditate for a while. It would do him a world of good to feel set apart from his problems for an hour or two.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jim had the worst luck in the world. There he was, trying not to get in anyone's way, and all anyone was doing was giving him hassle about it. McCoy kept on glancing at him as though he expected Jim to take the hint and go somewhere else, but there really was no place else to go. The tent was arranged so that facing McCoy was the only place where he wouldn't actually have to look at Spock and Uhura, unless he wanted to stand and stare at the wall for the rest of the day. Which, by the way, he really didn't. He'd take looking at the wall before looking at Spock holding onto Uhura, though. No questions asked.

Sure, he knew he only had himself to blame. Technically, Uhura hadn't even asked him to get Spock for her. But he had known what she wanted when she said she wasn't feeling well. They were dating, so it made sense, and Jim felt a certain sense of kinship with her. If he was in her situation, he'd want Spock to be the one holding him. He couldn't entirely blame her for it.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he wasn't actually even all that jealous. Sure, he was a _little_ jealous, because she had what he knew he would never be able to have, but besides that there was really nothing. He liked Uhura and she was sick. He wouldn't begrudge her some comfort now. But even more than that, Jim knew that Spock didn't want to see Uhura like this. Spock had seen enough of his friends and loved ones injured and dying. Jim didn't want him to lose anyone else.

It hit him then—really, truly punched him in the jaw—that he was in love with Spock. Not just lust, not just wanting to have completely heterosexual sex with, but love. He didn't know how it had happened. He hadn't even though it _could_ happen, much less this quickly, but there it was. Obvious, unavoidable, and hanging over him like a blinking neon sign that he felt anyone could read at any moment. That the realization came, oddly enough, thanks to Uhura was surprising but not entirely unexpected. Watching Spock and Uhura sit quietly together in the corner had Jim uneasy. He reminded himself he wasn't all that jealous—because he wasn't, really, and the small amount he was didn't matter enough to mention it. It was that Jim suddenly realized that he truly did _not_ want Uhura to be hurt. He hadn't ever actively wished her harm. She was an outstanding officer and he knew he was lucky to have her in his crew. Yet her relationship with Spock had left him resenting her, even when he tried not to. Now, though, Jim realized that Spock did care for Uhura. It was open to debate how much exactly and what his feelings were, but right now it didn't matter if Spock simply thought of her as a friend or as much more than that. Someone who was close to Spock was in danger, and Jim didn't want Spock to go through that. Jim didn't want to see that look on Spock's face again—the one he'd had directly after the Vulcan Massacre and during the memorial services. Losing Uhura would hurt Spock. He repeated that thought to himself, knowing it was true and unable to find any fault with it. Jim didn't want to see Spock hurt exponentially more than he wanted Uhura and Spock's relationship to be over. He wouldn't want to see any of his crew hurt, but the idea of standing aside as Spock lost yet _another_ person vital to his happiness was unthinkable. Spock was only just starting to make sense of out of the Vulcan Massacre. It was too soon for him to process more tragedy. Uhura needed to be all right. Spock couldn't handle it any other way.

So Jim was in love. There was no other reason why he would think so unselfishly about this. He had been so close to Spock last night. Now all he could think was that, if he had to spend a lifetime at Spock's side without ever touching him, watching as Spock stayed with Uhura or went into and out of relationships with other people, it would be fine as long as he was able to have moments where he could pretend. He had been able to pretend, last night. With Spock lying next to him, wholly focused on him, it had been easy to pretend. He thought it might get harder as time passed. It was already hard to imagine and he'd only realized a few minutes ago. But he'd deal with that when it came up. Right now, he needed to see if there was anything he could do. Maybe McCoy needed help with—

Then it hit him. McCoy. His best friend in the whole galaxy, wonderful sardonic McCoy, surely he would know what to do. If Jim could gather up the courage to actually speak about his epiphany, McCoy might have some form of advice. It was equally likely that he'd only laugh or hit him, but Jim could hope. Of course, he'd have to wait until he was ready. Jim was sure he loved Spock, he just knew it, somehow, but he wasn't sure enough to tell McCoy and be mocked for it. It was still too new. He needed to think on it a bit, let it cool down before he was prepared to get told off for it. He didn't want to hear he was an idiot for falling in love with someone who was probably unattainable. He just wanted to roll around in it for a while—really suck it up so he could understand what all the hype was about. It was his first time being in love, after all. He was ready to be wowed.

Jim actually _was_ wowed moments later when McCoy shouted that he'd found a possible cure. It was actually a wordless cry of relief, but Jim got it anyway. He looked up to find McCoy holding a vial of liquid and exhaling slowly.

"That it?" Jim asked, quietly. McCoy nodded. "So we just need to test it, right? Find out if it works or not."

"Yeah," McCoy replied. "We need someone who's sick. One of the colonists, I guess."

Jim immediately realized why that wouldn't work. Before he could say anything, though, Uhura spoke up. "I'll take it." Everyone looked at her. "It makes sense," she continued, speaking slower than usual. "If the cure doesn't work, the colonists don't need to know about it. When we find the one that works, we'll let them know we've got it. Until then, if we use them as test subjects they're bound to get even more pissed at us than they already are."

Jim looked at Spock, who was staring at McCoy. Then he looked back at McCoy to find him frowning.

"I don't like it," McCoy said. "I can't be entirely sure what the effects of this drug will be."

"Well, it got rid of the disease in the blood samples you had, right?" Uhura asked.

"Of course," McCoy said, slightly irritated. "I wouldn't bother with it if it hadn't."

"Okay," she replied. "Then use it on me."

"Just do it," Jim said, interrupting any further arguments. "She's right and you know it."

McCoy looked distinctly unhappy with the arrangement, but he still brought over a needle and the vial of medicine to Uhura. Jim watched as McCoy injected her with the liquid, and although he knew it was stupid he still half-expected some kind of immediate reaction to the drug. Uhura jumping up and down, her skin turning blue, her arm exploding— _something_.

"Now we wait," McCoy said.

So they waited. Every half-hour McCoy took small blood samples from Uhura to check her progress, but by the fifth hour even Jim could see she was feeling better. Her temperature was back to normal and she was walking and speaking at a rate much closer to her usual, although it was still a bit slower. At the end of the sixth hour, McCoy pronounced her cured and that strain of medicine a success—for humans. Immediately McCoy injected himself and Jim with the medicine, and Jim did not struggle against the needle at all because he knew Spock was watching and he was actually quite manly and impressive when he wanted to be.

Spock and McCoy began speaking in low tones about the process to convert that medicine to be fit for use by the colonists and by Vulcans. Jim tuned them out, no longer even able to pretend to be interested in the proceedings. He was done with this planet and with weird space diseases. He'd be more than happy to leave when they were done.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once Uhura had been cured, it took another twenty-one point two eight hours to make the correct adjustments to the medicine for it to be usable by both the colonists and himself. McCoy gave Spock his version of the medicine. Then he looked at the entrance to the tent warily.

"We need a colonist to test it on," McCoy said.

Uhura nodded and said, "I'll tell them we might have a cure."

Spock listened as Uhura spoke to one of the guards. He was getting the hang of this language. It was difficult because they used far more consonants than he was used to in either language, but he thought he could make out a few of the most often-used words—me, you, us, them, and, sickness, healthy, leader. It would be interesting to study this language, once they were finished with this mission. These people had no words to describe electrical objects, after all. That was a rare find in the galaxy.

Once Uhura had finished speaking, she turned to them and shrugged. "They'll bring somebody over. They say if the cure doesn't work, though, there'll be consequences."

McCoy grit his teeth. "Of _course_ they say that. Of _course_." He began pacing in short strides. "Here I am, working my ass off all day long to help them, and all they want to do is kill us."

"Bones," Jim said, sighing. He walked over to McCoy and put a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be fine. The cure worked on us. It'll work on them."

Spock didn't want to say the obvious, but McCoy ended up saying it for him. "You don't know that. And if it doesn't work we'll be in ten kinds of shit and it'll be my fault."

"Doctor, you have done everything you can to produce the correct antidote," Spock said. "If there is a fault within the medicine, it would be illogical to blame you for it."

McCoy and Jim both looked at Spock, McCoy surprised and Jim grateful. Spock blinked and raised an eyebrow, once again unsure why his logical statements brought about such odd reactions from humans.

He didn't have long to think about it. A colonist stumbled into the tent—a woman who was clearly far more advanced in her symptoms than Uhura had been. McCoy immediately told her to sit down, and Uhura translated. The woman half-sat and half-fell onto the ground. McCoy gave her the injection, and Spock realized it was a very good thing the woman was barely able to function because otherwise she might have struggled against the needle.

"Now we wait," McCoy said. " _Again_."

It didn't take long for there to be a reaction. In the first hour she was sitting up straighter, and by the end of the third she was arguing quite vehemently against McCoy's half-hour tests on her blood. After seven hours, McCoy let his head fall on the table. Spock was concerned, but Jim smiled and walked over to McCoy, gently pushing his shoulder against Spock's when he passed by.

"That's it," McCoy said, calmly. "I'm done."

"Good job, Bones." Jim pat him on the head a few times, which earned him a glare. "You've earned a vacation."

"I hear Orion is lovely this time of year," McCoy said, sighing.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a week in bed," Jim said, grinning. He waggled his eyebrows. "You've probably got your choice of the nurses, too, lucky bastard."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "They've all got the hots for this Captain Kirk I've heard so much about. He's supposed to be charming and handsome and all of that, but I've never seen anyone fitting _that_ description." He paused. "Except in the mirror, of course."

"Of course," Jim allowed. He looked over at Uhura then and said, "Can you _please_ tell the guards that we've discovered the cure, but that we need to have our other equipment back and to go back up to our ship to reproduce it in the amount they need."

Uhura nodded. "Happy to, sir." She spoke briefly to the guards, and in minutes they had their communicators and suits back.

Spock was handed out the communicators and began to re-pack his belongings. As Uhura and McCoy did the same, Jim contacted the Enterprise for the first time in almost four days.

"Enterprise, Kirk here. Do you read?"

"Captain Kirk, this is the Enterprise. It's good to hear from you," Sulu said, relief evident in his voice even through the static of the communicator.

"Same here," Jim replied. "Get a lock on our coordinates. We'll be beaming back up shortly. I'll let you know when we're ready."

"Will do," Sulu said.

Jim flipped his communicator shut and looked at the emitter he was standing near, buzzing away on the table, before turning to Spock. "These emitters really came in handy," he said, thoughtfully.

Spock raised his eyebrows. Of course they'd come in handy—he'd made them because otherwise they wouldn't have been able to complete their mission. Was Jim simply thanking him? "Indeed," Spock replied, deeming that to be a safe answer.

"Hm," Jim murmured, nodding. He looked around and saw that Uhura and McCoy were both packing their bags. "Oh, right."

Spock simply watched as the three of them finished collecting their belongings. He was already prepared to leave, but he assisted McCoy in packing all of the medical supplies and equipment. Once they were done, Jim flipped open his communicator and ordered the Enterprise to beam them up. Spock quickly shut off the emitter and held onto it, along with the rest of his supplies, as the world dissolved around him.

When he re-appeared on the Enterprise, he saw Scotty smiling at them. Jim and McCoy walked off the platform first, Uhura trailing close behind.

"You're back." Spock would never understand why humans felt the need state the obvious, but he said nothing to Scotty's illogical comment.

"Thank _God_ ," Uhura said, shaking her head. "I'm going to my quarters. I need a shower." She waved at Spock and then left, leaving the rest of them standing there staring after her.

"I'd _like_ to go relax," McCoy said. "But first I have to make enough of this medicine to treat those assholes."

McCoy strode out, still ticked off, and Spock moved to follow him, ready to try and help if he was needed. But Jim held him back, grabbing his elbow and shaking his head. He dropped his hand quickly, which was unusual behavior for Jim, who normally kept his hold of people for at least thirty seconds once he touched them. Spock wondered about it, but decided asking would be strange especially since they were all tired and in a bad mood from the mission.

"So, not a good time, then?" Scotty asked, frowning.

Spock looked at Scotty disapprovingly. "You beamed me into a lake."

"I did?" Scotty asked. He laughed and then bit his lower lip. "I mean, oh, I'm sorry, sir. And I say that with complete sincerity. It won't happen again."

"Don't worry about it," Jim said, offhandedly. "You're getting a raise." Spock raised an eyebrow. Jim turned to look at him. "And you're coming with me for a minute."

"Captain?" Spock asked.

"Don't argue, just come on," Jim said.

They walked towards the door as Scotty said, "Was that a joke? Because I really would like a raise."

"Not a joke," Jim called back as they left the room. "Keep it up and you'll be a rich man, Scotty."

"Nice," Scotty replied.

Spock catalogued the entire conversation as yet another example of human behavior that he would never understand. He followed Jim down the corridor to an empty room, which they both entered. Jim immediately turned to face Spock and said, "Listen, I don't want you to tell Bones about this yet, okay? Because he's still pissed about the colonists and he'll just flip out for no reason."

"What are you talking about, Captain?" Spock asked, hoping Jim would answer and wouldn't just continue speaking assuming Spock could follow his train of thought.

"Those emitters," Jim said. "How many of them could you rig up in the next few hours?"

Spock paused, considering. "It took me three hours to make the last emitter. Now that I have a better grasp on them, I might be able to make one in two hours. That is assuming that the materials are provided, of course."

"Oh, yeah," Jim said. "And do you think you could maybe, I don't know, draw up some plans or something?"

"Plans?" Spock repeated.

"You know, like a diagram that lets other people know how to make them," Jim explained.

"It is quite possible," Spock replied. "I could re-create a virtual model using the computer and—"

"No, no," Jim said, suddenly. "I mean, on paper." He hesitated. "See, I had this idea. You know how we have the cure for the disease, but we don't know what causes it or how it's spread?"

"Yes," Spock answered after a few seconds when it became clear the question was not rhetorical and Jim really did expect an answer. Humans. So intent on stating the obvious.

"Okay," Jim said. "Well, I'm thinking even if we leave enough medicine for the colonists here, the disease might come back or it might keep spreading." He shrugged. "We don't know enough about it yet, and I think if we give them the emitters and the materials to make their own medicine, that would be better than just warping away and hoping it doesn't have a second outbreak. What do you think?"

"I think that is an intelligent plan," Spock replied. He had been considering how the colonists could create more medicine themselves for a while, but he had been hesitant about giving them technological capability. "However, this is a culture that has survived and thrived without technology. Giving them these tools will change their society in ways we cannot imagine," Spock said, attempting to get across his concerns.

"Yeah," Jim said, slowly. "But what else can we do? It's ridiculous to think just because of this planet's atmosphere they've been left without computers and what have you. Plus, we can't expect other ships to come by and keep on doing this kind of thing. This is a section of the galaxy that hardly gets any traffic at all, and even less now, thanks to…" Jim trailed off, gesturing wildly to indicate the lack of ships and officers caused by Nero's attack.

"Captain, I actually do agree that your plan is the only solution," Spock said, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards at Jim's antics. "I only wanted to point out the consequences our actions will have."

"Oh," Jim said. "Well. Okay then. Consequences noted." He scratched the back of his head and sighed. "But I can't think of anything else we can do here. So I'll get Bones to write down how to make the cure, all three versions, I guess, just in case. And the both of you need to update Starfleet's records so they've got all this information in case it comes up again."

"Of course," Spock said, in a way that indicated how ridiculous it was that Jim would even think he needed to tell Spock how to do his job.

Jim grinned. "Right then," he said. "Guess I'm off to go argue with Bones."

Spock went to his quarters for a quick shower and a change of clothes before he began working on drawing out a diagram on how to make the emitter. Once the diagram was complete, he began working on making yet another of these machines that he felt he was getting a bit too good at creating. He made two more before Uhura knocked on the door to his quarters. He let her in, hoping this wasn't a social call since he was in the middle of working.

"Kirk says he's going back down to the planet to talk to Kopel." She shrugged. "He wants me to go with him to translate, but he asked me to come get what you've been working on first."

Spock nodded and walked to where he had left his bags. He emptied one out and placed the two emitters in it, then retrieved the original two emitters and arranged them in the bag as well. He picked up the bag and handed it to Uhura, then rolled up the large paper he had drawn incredibly detailed plans on, using only pictures to show what to do since he knew they spoke different languages. He gave that to her as well.

"There," he said. "That is everything I have. Tell Captain Kirk I will be on the bridge when he returns."

"Okay," Uhura said. She glanced at Spock and then at the floor and then back up at him. "Listen, about you and Kirk…"

"Yes?" Spock asked, after she had not said anything for a few seconds.

"You guys are really…" Uhura struggled for a word.

"Captain Kirk and I are friends," Spock said. He wondered if she really had not already known that. Hadn't he made that clear to her? Was he being too subtle?

She hefted the bag in her hand and shook her head. "No, I mean—yeah, okay. Never mind. I'll see you later."

"All right," Spock replied. She left and Spock realized even if he studied for millions of years, there were some aspects of human behavior that he would truly never understand.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jim's meeting with Kopel lasted for all of five minutes. They beamed back down to the surface of the planet and met with Kopel and his gang of warriors once again. This time, though, they also beamed down with crates full of medicine. They had only been gone just over five hours, but it had been enough time to produce more than enough medicine thanks to the wondrous glory of replicators. Jim loved machines. He really did.

Jim briefly explained to Uhura what he had already told Spock, and she rephrased it to sound more diplomatic. That was fine by Jim. He had no intention of starting a war if he could avoid it.

"He's asking why you would do this," Uhura said. "He doesn't understand why we had the ability to use technology on this planet and we hid it from them."

"Well, they _did_ treat us like prisoners," Jim said, shrugging.

Uhura exchanged a few words, then said, "He says they were wrong to do so. And he wants to thank you for giving them this opportunity."

Jim pointed to one crate. "Tell him to open that one."

Uhura spoke and then one of Kopel's men walked forward and opened the crate. His eyes widened as he picked up a communicator. He spoke quickly and then Uhura said, "They don't understand. They still think they're weapons."

"I know," Jim said. "Explain to them that they're used for communicating. Tell them they've been ignored by the Federation for too long, and they can use these to get in touch with nearby planets and the closest Federation outposts, if they need anything. They'll have to use the emitters, of course, but still."

Uhura nodded. She spoke at length with the colonists, while Jim paid more attention to their body language than to what they were saying. Kopel and his cohorts seemed to relax a bit. One of them was nodding, and another was on the verge of not frowning. Jim sensed the beginning of a beautiful relationship where he could stay far away from them and they could still get what they needed to survive.

Uhura turned to Jim. "They understand why we lied and I actually think they respect you for it. They'd like an explanation about how the emitters work and how to give out the medicine, though."

Jim gestured to Uhura and said, "Well, explain away. You know it all, right?"

Uhura sighed. "Yes, sir." She knelt down to take an emitter out of the bag at her feet, turning it on for the colonists to see. Meanwhile, Jim unrolled the diagram and showed one of the colonists who seemed quite interested in the machine how it worked. After that, they showed how to inject someone with the medicine. Luckily enough, it worked no matter where it was injected into the body, so that was a simple matter of convincing the colonists that sticking themselves with a needle was not going to injure them. Much. Finally, they showed Kopel the smaller plans to create more medicine, which were clear but also complicated and harder to explain.

When they were finished, Jim held his hand out towards Kopel. Uhura spoke briefly, and then Kopel reached out and shook his hand, really tightly in that way that some guys who were overly concerned with appearing manly did. Jim didn't let any discomfort show, and instead squeezed his hand back. They let go and Jim turned on one of the emitters, flipping open his communicator.

"Enterprise, Kirk. Beam us up in five minutes."

"Acknowledged."

Jim closed his communicator and they turned off the emitter. Uhura cautioned the colonists once more about being careful with the emitters and the medicine, and the group left with their new toys, each person carrying one crate while Kopel carried the bag of emitters and the plans to make more.

"Let's hope they don't do anything awful," Uhura said, watching them go.

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "But at least we're done here. And I don't think they're that bad, really. They just need to get out of the stone age."

"Hm," Uhura agreed. She was silent for a few moments, during which time Jim wondered if they'd be standing in awkward silence for the next minute until they were beamed up. "So, you and Spock are pretty close."

It was something, but it definitely wasn't the conversation topic Jim had been expecting. "We're friends," he replied, shrugging.

"So I hear," Uhura said.

Jim looked at her, confused and wondering what the heck _that_ was supposed to mean, before a heavy feeling of paranoia settled over him. Had he given himself away? _Already_? It had only been a little while since he'd figured it out for himself. Did Uhura have mind-reading powers? Or was this that girl thing where he did something that was completely unnoticeable by other guys but had girls all in fits? But no, it couldn't be either of those. She was probably just trying to talk about something else that Jim couldn't figure out. He was about to ask her, but then they were beamed back on board the ship. She walked out of the transporter room too quickly to try and stop, and Jim stared after her before leaving to go to his quarters. He had what was going to be an annoyingly long Captain's Log entry to make.

A few minutes after he got to his quarters, though, the intercom sounded. Jim pressed the button and Chekov said, "Captain, Admiral Pike would like to speak with you."

Jim sighed. "All right, put him through."

"Jim?" Pike asked.

"Pike," Jim replied. "If you're going to give me another mission, I'll tell you right now that's going to move you to the bottom of my list of favorite commanding officers."

Pike chuckled. "No, no more missions. Yet."

"Thank God," Jim said.

"So it was rough, then?"

"I'll send you the log entry when I'm done with it," Jim replied. "It'll be maybe an hour."

"That's fine," Pike said. He hesitated. "But I didn't call to talk about that."

"I figured," Jim said. "What's happened?" The pause was long enough that Jim wondered if the connection had been broken. "Admiral?"

"I'm here," Pike said. He sighed. "You should know there's been some trouble on New Vulcan."

Jim felt his body tense. "That can't be good. What kind of trouble?"

"The kind of trouble we should have expected but didn't," Pike replied. "There's been some talk among the Vulcans of investigating the Nero incident further, using the Federation's resources to do so, of course."

"I don't get it," Jim said. "Yeah, what happened was horrible. I feel bad for them and all, but… well, Nero's dead. I gave the order so I know. What needs to be investigated?"

"We're not entirely sure what they're going to ask for yet," Pike said. "But some of the higher-ups have been speculating it's going to involve the Romulans."

Jim groaned. "Involve them _how_?"

"Like I said, we just don't know," Pike stated. "Still, it's better for everyone if we're prepared."

There was a beat of heavy silence where all Jim could think was _prepared for what_? Then he realized this information was most likely classified or need-to-know and he shouldn't be hearing it. "Why'd you tell me this?" Jim asked, already half-suspecting but wanting to be wrong.

"Come on, Jim," Pike replied. "You know why."

"Let's say I don't so you can tell me anyway," Jim said. There was only one reason why Pike would consider him someone to keep informed on the activities of the Vulcans, and that was a reason he didn't want to consider.

Pike sighed. "I'll contact you again if anything else happens. Everyone's hoping it's going to be just talk, that nothing will come of it."

"You know what they say. Vulcans don't bluff." Jim spoke calmly, but he was already coming to some pretty bad conclusions.

"Neither does Starfleet," Pike said, just as calmly. "I'll keep you updated. Pike out."

Jim turned off the communicator and leaned back in his chair. Was it overly pessimistic to assume the worst, or was it something the military had drilled into him?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HBP sucked. Then I had to write this part overnight so I could get it out today. Oh, man. Sometimes, life, you know? It's just… *le sigh*

The first time Jim realized he liked boys in _that_ way, he was twelve. He was in English class and the professor was droning on about some stupid old book that he was never going to read, and with the class being so boring the only thing Jim could think to do was stare blankly into space. He ended up looking at Johnny, who sat two seats in front and to the right of him, who hated math but loved English and never talked to him because one time Jim had said something cruel to him to impress his friends. Jim remembered the way Johnny's face had fallen, the way he had darted his eyes downward and hurried on, they way he had purposely avoided Jim for weeks after that until finally Jim had pushed his shoulder in the generic universal guy-signal of friendship and muttered "later." Johnny must have understood what Jim meant because from then on he didn't flinch away even though he never made an effort to interact with Jim, either.

It was weird that Jim was staring at him, but hey, line of sight and all of that, and it wasn't like it was _his_ fault the seats were arranged alphabetically. So Jim stared without caring about it, because he was bored and wanted to be somewhere else, and then he was staring at the collar of Johnny's t-shirt, and from there it was easy to go to the base of his neck and let his eyes trail slowly up to reach his chin, his cheekbone, his ear.

Afterwards, when Jim realized what he had been doing, he knew it was wrong because he felt ashamed. People were much more accepting of this kind of thing now than they had been once, just like there had once been a time when black people were slaves and women couldn't vote and gay people couldn't get married, but those facts were simply items of interest to him now, small memorized lines that held no meaning to the world he lived in. So two guys or two girls being together wasn't anything anymore, it meant the same as any other kind of relationship, and even at twelve Jim had seen some pretty weird human and alien romances that defied even the broadest sense of archaic sexual terminology. What did you call it when a human being was involved with a five-legged, two-headed sentient squid? Besides gross. Obviously.

It seemed pointless to have terminology for this kind of thing, but of course some people insisted, and his step-father was one of them. Unfortunately, his step-father was also one of the few humans left who was very adamant about the "proper" kinds of relationships, and he was so vehement and outspoken about his opinion that Jim knew he would have to ignore his feelings unless he wanted to be thrown out into the Iowa desert-plains-endless-fields. So he learned to like girls, and as the years passed he eventually believed he did like girls and that the Johnny incident had been a one-time thing. He believed he could love a girl, a human girl of course, someone his step-father wouldn't beat him up over bringing home. There were times Jim thought his mother suspected something, but she never said and he never bothered to ask.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

With three Jacks in his hand, Jim should have been able to win the round. Usually he would have maneuvered his way around Scotty's loud exaggerations and Chekov's nervous finger tapping and Sulu's blank face, but for some reason even with the best hand Jim lost. He knew his mind wasn't fully on the game, but _still_. Three Jacks should have won him _something_. But McCoy won the round with a pair of tens because Jim had gone out earlier like an idiot when he only saw one Jack and didn't actually register the other two next to it. Then, because this was the way his life worked, when Jim threw his cards down in frustration McCoy glanced over to see what he had. His eyebrows shot up and he looked at Jim curiously. But that was easy enough to ignore. He'd been ignoring McCoy's weird looks for the past four days—nothing new there.

"You still playing?" McCoy asked. He shuffled the cards and looked at Jim, waiting for an answer before he dealt them.

Jim twisted his lips and scrunched his nose, face a picture of overdramatized confusion. "Uh… _yeah_?" He let the expression fade to a smile. "I've got to win my money back, after all."

"What money?" Scotty asked. "We're playing with potato chips." He picked one out of his hard-earned pile and bit into it, crunching loudly.

"Don't eat your money!" Jim shouted, waving a hand at him in frustration. "You'll have nothing left to bet with."

"One last hand then," McCoy said. "It's already three-thirty." He dealt the cards swiftly, wrist flicking as each card slid across the table to land in front of or near the player.

"In the _morning_?" Chekov asked, incredulously.

"No," McCoy answered, monotone.

"Can we just play, please?" Sulu said. "I've got a shift in four hours."

Jim picked up his cards and looked at them carefully, making sure he looked at each one carefully before realizing his hand was useless. Well, he'd stay in anyway and make it look like he had a chance. Even if he wasn't focused on the game, he didn't want to completely miss the experience. Sure, they played a few times a week, but it was relaxing. Or, at least, it was supposed to be relaxing. And it would have been, too, if Jim hadn't been internally freaking out.

So he loved Spock. Big deal. Really, what did it matter? He didn't have to do anything about it. He could just go on as if nothing had happened. Because nothing actually _had_ happened. Uhura hadn't said anything else to him, and she and Spock were still trying to have some kind of epic romance or something. But what did he care? He didn't care. Not even a little. Spock could go and flirt with whoever he wanted to. Not his problem.

Except that he thought he was developing a nervous tick. Because every time he saw them together his eyes sort of itched and then they looked at him strangely. He thought perhaps he was having some kind of uncontrollable reaction, like sneezing. And that wouldn't really go over too well if it kept on happening. He needed to find a way to just accept the facts. Spock and Uhura were dating, and they were going to be dating for at least another four and a half months unless Spock suddenly decided to back out on his word. That was, of course, _impossible_ , so Jim needed to get used to the idea of Spock seeing other people really quickly.

He closed his eyes in irritation at his own stupidity. ‘Seeing other people'—what was _that_? He and Spock had never been together and were never going to get together and four days was really enough time to suck it up and get over it. He could just love Spock secretly and not give himself away and everything would be fine.

Besides, he wasn't even entirely sure it was love. How were people supposed to know for sure that they were in love? He'd felt it so strongly before, and he still felt it hit him every time he saw Spock, but then when they separated it sort of slowly got less. Until he saw something that reminded him of Spock, like when he went into the lift and remembered the last time he and Spock had been in there together when nothing at all interesting had happened except Spock had raised an eyebrow at him and he had sort of felt all disgusting and nervous and tight about it and he'd thought he was going to laugh or throw up but then they'd gotten to the bridge and the crisis was suddenly over. Or when someone mentioned something that reminded him of Spock, like when he'd passed these two crew members talking about rushing to finish reports on time and he'd encouraged them and moved on but then he knew that they'd have to face his fearless First Officer's wrath if they were late and after that thinking about how Spock would get all irritated and his lips would press together and he'd just stand there silently berating them was actually _exciting_ and _amusing_ to Jim.

He hadn't thought it was going to be like this. Love was supposed to be all rainbows and fluffy bunny rabbits, wasn't it? What the hell was up with him getting excited over Spock making his crew _cry_? It was morally wrong on some level, he was sure of it.

But the most unexpected part so far had been just how much he wanted to tell Spock. He knew he couldn't, but he really, really, _really_ wanted to. It was like every time he saw Spock he had to stop himself from shouting about it. And it was just so _obvious_ to him that he thought Spock must already know because how could he not? Wasn't it clear just by looking at Jim? That's what he felt like—that trying to be calm and not give himself away was just a waste of time because somehow he'd already accidentally given himself away, and now it was only a matter of time before this whole charade came crashing down around him.

But nobody knew. Nobody acted any differently, and besides the weird looks from McCoy and Uhura's unnerving comment, there'd been nothing. So he was safe and able to hide it for now, and he intended to keep it that way.

Jim had only been paying half attention to his cards, so of course he lost when it was time to reveal his hand, but that was fine because Scotty had been right—they'd only been playing for potato chips. What did it matter if he lost, really?

Scotty started downing his chips as soon as the game was over, sitting there like he didn't have work in four hours. Sulu immediately said good night and left. Chekov followed a few minutes later, yawning and blinking too often. They both had to be in half an hour earlier than everyone else the next day thanks to a new course that had them diverting around an asteroid belt. Those were the trials and tribulations of being the pilot and navigator. McCoy put the cards away and sat there, looking for all the world like he had nothing better to do than sit in a rec room at almost four in the morning.

"All right, I'm done," Scotty said, wiping his hands on his shirt. "See you bright and early, Captain."

Jim nodded at him. "Night, Scotty."

After he left, the silence was so thick in the room Jim thought he might drown in it. He was planning on waiting it out and hoping McCoy caved first, but of course that didn't happen. In less than a minute he looked at McCoy, who was staring at him, and spread his hands in front of him.

"What," Jim stated, shortly. "What _is_ it?"

"Nothing," McCoy said. "Why's there got to be something?"

"You've been acting weird," Jim said. "I don't get it."

"What, I'm not allowed to sit here?" McCoy raised his eyebrows and shook his head in annoyance, and the gesture was so familiar that Jim swallowed and ran a hand over his face. He couldn't stay here like this. Whatever was wrong with McCoy, he'd figure it out later when he wasn't so focused on his own problems.

"I'm just going to sleep," Jim said, one corner of his mouth curving upwards in reassurance. It didn't work. McCoy still frowned when Jim pushed his chair back, scraping it against the floor with a sharp sound. "It's too late to be doing this." He left without waiting for McCoy's reply, because he knew if he waited McCoy might understand what he'd really meant.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Uhura had asked Spock to reserve a room for them to spend time together in. Spock had reserved one of the recreation rooms even though he wasn't exactly sure what her idea of spending time was going to be. Still, he was willing to give her what she wanted. Uhura had been acting oddly since they had returned from Lambda Four. Spock assumed this was because she had succumbed to the disease and felt badly about it. It would be a very human thing to do—feel badly about getting sick.

However, now that they were here, she was acting even stranger. They had spent the past two hours playing a board game that he didn't try to win and accidentally won anyway. She was slightly upset but not horribly so. Spock didn't know how to talk to her when she acted this way. It was hard enough speaking with her normally. When she was in a bad mood it was next to impossible.

"Perhaps we should get some rest?" Spock asked.

"All right," Uhura said. She closed her eyes and leaned towards him. Spock stepped away from her, immediately unsure. She waited there a few seconds before opening her eyes and looking at him in confusion. "What's the problem?"

Spock had been trying to avoid this conversation. He'd hoped she would wait until he agreed to kiss her. In that case, he would have avoided it until the six months were up. It hadn't been a great plan, but it had been the only one he had that had any chance at succeeding. It was going to be awful discussing this with her now, when she was already unhappy.

"I am currently not prepared for any signs of physical affection," Spock said. That was clear and concise. There was no way she could misunderstand.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Spock resisted the urge to either sigh heavily or roll his eyes. Was there something in human DNA that forced them to act this way? "I mean that I am not ready to become physically intimate at this time."

"No, I hear you," Uhura said, frowning. "But that doesn't make sense."

"I do not know how to make the statement any clearer," Spock replied.

"No, what I'm saying is that we're dating, so kissing shouldn't be a big deal. Right?" Uhura asked, looking at Spock and shrugging a little.

"Perhaps normally," Spock allowed. "However I do not feel comfortable engaging in physical intimacy with you at this time."

"Okay," Uhura said, slowly. "So then, when?"

It was obvious she thought her statement made sense by itself. "Please explain what you mean," Spock said.

Uhura sighed. "I'm asking you when you'll feel comfortable kissing me again."

"I do not know," Spock replied. Of course he _did_ know the answer, but telling her would be a disastrous move.

"I know you're still upset over what happened," Uhura said. Spock did not understand what exactly she was referring to. The Vulcan Massacre was the obvious reference, but she could have been talking about their recent mission or else some other event that she had given importance which hadn't made a lasting impression on him. But it was most likely Nero's attack. "But we kissed right afterwards and you didn't have a problem with it then."

Spock hesitated. He was certain now that she was speaking about the Vulcan Massacre, but he still had no idea how to reply. Telling her that their first kiss had made no impression on him thanks to his state of shock wasn't possible. It was also a bad idea to tell her that their second kiss had been incredibly uncomfortable for him, for similar reasons. He'd known this for a while and nothing had changed, but he still hadn't thought of what to tell her.

Luckily, Uhura was not the type of person who would stay silent until he replied. When he had been quiet for several seconds, she said, "I have something to tell you. I wasn't going to say anything, but now I think I have to." Spock waited while she licked her lips. "I overheard you and Kirk talking."

Spock waited for her to continue. When she didn't, he said, "Captain Kirk and I have spoken on numerous occasions. Was there one specific instance you were referring to?"

Uhura looked briefly at the ceiling before she said, "I meant that night on Lambda Four when he asked you about Vulcan."

"Ah," Spock said. Discomfort attacked him in waves. "I was unaware you were awake during that time."

"Yeah," Uhura said, slowly. "I know."

"Why did you remain silent?" Spock asked. It seemed incredibly… sneaky or manipulative, perhaps, to pretend to be asleep. He had no idea why she would have done that, but it also struck him that the conversation she had overheard had been private. It felt like she had unintentionally violated something she had no business taking part in. He didn't necessarily mind her hearing about Vulcan—in fact, he had meant what he said. The more people who learned about Vulcan culture now, the better. But Jim's contributions to the conversation had been more hesitant and personal. Spock didn't think he would have acted that way if he had known she was awake.

"It seemed rude to interrupt," Uhura said. "I didn't want to intrude."

Spock didn't actually know how to interpret that explanation, so he let it go. The entire situation had already occurred, and he couldn't change what had happened. So there really was no point in arguing with her about her motivations.

"Thank you for telling me," Spock said, which seemed like an appropriate response.

Uhura shuffled her feet, a sure sign she was nervous and uncomfortable. "I needed to because I've got a question." She looked directly at him. "Why didn't you ever tell me any of that?"

"You never asked," Spock replied. Again, with humans asking questions that had obvious answers.

"But you're _dating_ me," Uhura said, blinking. "I shouldn't have to ask. You're supposed to want to talk to me about that sort of thing."

"Would you like me to tell you about Vulcan?" Spock asked, hoping he was interpreting her complaint correctly.

"Do you _want_ to tell me about Vulcan?" Uhura responded.

"I will tell you about Vulcan if you wish to hear it, but I do not want to give you information you have no interest in," Spock stated. This was really getting confusing now. If she would just be clear, everything would be easier.

"You know what? Forget it," Uhura said, shaking her head. "You don't understand what I'm saying, do you?"

"Apparently I do not understand. Please explain what you mean," Spock said. He was willing to be patient if it would solve whatever this problem was. He actually wasn't quite sure _what_ the problem was, but he was sure there was one.

"You've been asking me to explain what I mean a lot," Uhura said, pressing her lips together.

"I apologize," Spock said, holding back his own frustration which was now threatening to explode out of him. "I do not always understand your meaning when you imply something as opposed to being specific."

"Well, I'll try to be _specific_ in the future," Uhura snapped. She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, leaving Spock wondering what he had said that infuriated her so much.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Homosexuality was completely illogical. The purpose of being physically intimate with another person was to produce children. Vulcans were as logical about that as they were about everything else in life. Any emotions that might come out during sex were ignored. In fact, there were some Vulcans who had chosen partners based on who was the most compatible genetically, as opposed to the Vulcans who chose partners who they actually liked—or got along with well enough to discuss every topic in the galaxy. Taking physical pleasure from sex was acceptable because that was a natural part of the process, but having sex just for its own sake was considered morally inappropriate. This was part of the reason pon farr was so horrible to go through. It took away all control and left everyone at the mercy of their emotions. When they had the choice, Vulcans chose to ignore the primal side of their nature and focus on what they had all spent years learning.

Spock knew this and had never questioned it. Of course a man and a woman would become bond mates—how else would a child be produced? It was something that had simply never come up for him before. Of course emotions were central in picking a bond mate. Even Vulcans knew that, although they did not speak of it. Still, if a Vulcan had a strong emotional connection with both a member of the same and opposite gender, then that Vulcan would become bond mates with the person of the opposite gender and stay friends with the person of the same gender. That was simply logical.

In fact, Spock remembered the first time he had seen a homosexual couple on Earth. They had been two female students in one of his classes. He had thought they were only friends until one day he had gotten to class early and saw them kissing. Of course he had continued walking to his desk without pause. When they noticed him there, one of the girls blushed and hit her partner while the other one laughed. Spock hadn't at first understood what it was he had seen. It had taken him a bit of studying that night to realize that it was not actually a human tradition for friends to kiss in that manner, and although some Earth cultures did have similar traditions, the students in Starfleet did not share them. Then he had come to the only obvious conclusion that the two were lovers, and at that point he'd closed the book and went back to writing the mid-term exam he had been working on.

The idea of homosexuality didn't bother him. It was just another illogical action that humans and other species practiced. They were illogical so much of the time that adding something else to his already incredibly long mental list had no real impact on him. Spock knew other Vulcans might have different ideas—he'd gone to school with several who had looked down on him for his easy dismissal of illogical behavior. Still, his human half gave him the wisdom and emotion to understand the point of most of human behavior. It was all about feelings for them, completely about their emotions from one moment to the next, and so they acted impulsively even when they thought they were planning ahead and being careful. It was confusing, of course, but he was still learning how to interpret it. One day he would know exactly why people did all the odd things they did—like speak out loud when they thought no one was listening, eat food they knew was harmful to their bodies, and cheat on tests that covered material they would need to know for their future careers. Engaging in physical intimacy with a member of the same sex was just another bulleted item in a long line of them. It meant nothing to Spock, especially since he knew he would never be illogical enough to engage in any of the behavior on his mental list.

It all came down to one fact. Vulcans would never ignore logic to follow any emotion, no matter how strong that emotion was. They had fierce emotions that they kept hidden and they learned to ignored, but that didn't mean anything. Logic was what won out every time over emotion. Spock had been raised that way, and in the end, he believed it was the best, and only, way to live. He knew his emotions were harder to control than they should have been. But still, he was able to ignore them for the most part. He was keeping his promise to Uhura even though he felt no true emotional connection to her, and he was still able to maintain a friendship with Jim that felt more emotionally satisfying than anything else he had ever felt. He had found a careful balance between logic and emotion. Surely that counted for something, didn't it?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jim had been heading to his room when he saw Spock walking out of a rec room. He seemed irritated or confused about something. Jim wasn't exactly feeling up to dealing with Spock shouting at him, but he knew he was going to go and ask what was wrong anyway. That was just how pathetic he was right now.

"Spock, hey," Jim said. Spock looked over at Jim and stopped walking, waiting for Jim to catch up to him.

"Jim," Spock greeted him. "I thought you were normally already in your quarters by this time."

Jim shrugged. "What can I say? Being Captain, you know, it's a tough job."

"I am on my way to my own quarters," Spock said.

"Oh, yeah, well, okay," Jim said. He scratched his chin and then decided to throw caution to the wind, as some idiot somewhere had once said, and give himself more shit to deal with. "Can I walk you there?"

Spock paused. "Your quarters are on the opposite side of the ship from mine."

Jim laughed once, loudly, then abruptly shut up before he sounded too manic. "Shit, they are, aren't they? Well, I don't care though. I'll walk there and back. Who cares?"

"I see," Spock said, raising an eyebrow. "Of course I will appreciate your company, even though your behavior is completely illogical."

Jim grinned. "It is, is it?"

"Yes," Spock said. "However I am becoming used to these illogical outbursts. They are not as off-putting as they once were."

"Oh," Jim said. "I guess that's good?"

"It is," Spock said.

They began walking towards Spock's room, Jim staying next to him but not saying anything. There wasn't really anything he could think to say that wouldn't give him away. He didn't want to shout about how much in love he was with Spock, because that would be bad, but every other conversation topic seemed less interesting and important when compared to that one obvious, glaring omission. Expecting Spock to make conversation, though, wasn't exactly going to end well. Spock had no problems walking in silence, especially when he felt comfortable. But Jim had noticed his mind was elsewhere, an when he had first seen Spock there had been something bothering him. It would be worth it to see what the problem was. Even if Jim couldn't do anything to help solve it, sometimes it really was enough to just listen.

"So," Jim said, just to say something. "What happened?" Spock glanced at him, frowning. "I mean, you seem sort of…" Jim shrugged and waved a hand around to indicate a general negative feeling.

Spock nodded. "Ah, yes. I was with Lieutenant Uhura and we began to argue. She left before we could resolve the dispute."

"Oh," Jim said. He frowned. Comforting Spock about his relationship troubles seemed a specifically difficult thing for him to do right now, but then again they were friends and this was what friends did. Jim was planning on keeping his friendship with Spock. He was going to have to get used to this aspect of it. Fast.

"If you do not wish for me to speak to you about Lieutenant Uhura, all you have to do is say so," Spock said, abruptly.

"No, I mean, it's fine. Well… actually." Jim cut himself off, shaking his head. "Can I get back to you?"

"Excuse me?" Spock asked.

"No, it's all right," Jim said. "I mean, I want you to talk to me. About whatever you want to." He made an expansive hand gesture. "Uhura's included in that, okay? _Everything's_ included in that."

"So what'd she say?" Time to be a man about this. He was Captain of a starship, for crying out loud. He could handle a bit of romantic woe.

"Lieutenant Uhura overheard our conversation on Lambda Four when you asked me about Vulcan," Spock said.

Jim's eyes widened. "She did?" He hadn't known that. The thought of her listening to them speaking and not letting them know she was awake was particularly creepy to Jim. Then again, if it had been him listening to Spock and Uhura talking, he was sure he would have done the exact same thing. He couldn't actively fault her for it.

Actually, knowing Uhura had listened to that conversation explained why she'd been so confusing right before they'd beamed back to the ship. At least now he knew that she was only wondering just how close he and Spock had gotten as friends. It had been a pretty intense conversation, after all. It made sense that she was wondering about it.

That was an incredible relief for Jim. He had been worried she'd picked up on something else, but she hadn't. It had been normal girlfriend curiosity. Nothing strange or unusual about it.

"Yes," Spock continued. "Lieutenant Uhura was upset that I spoke with you about Vulcan as opposed to her. I explained to her that you had asked me and she had not, but that only served to increase her irritation."

"Well, that kind of makes sense," Jim said, preparing himself. This was it. He had to defend Uhura to Spock. Oh God. He might accidentally screw this up and ruin their relationship or something. But he could get it right if he just pretended like he wasn't personally invested in the outcome of their argument. And it wasn't even actually pretending because he simply wasn't. Whether they made up or broke up wouldn't affect him in any way. He just had to remember that. "After all, she's your girlfriend. She wants you to talk to her about important stuff."

"I understand that," Spock said. "However it is illogical for her to assume that I will speak to her about certain topics without her asking me to." His lips thinned and his steps slowed. Jim had to stop walking for a few beats so he didn't accidentally move too far ahead of him. "The Vulcan Massacre is an event that caused many people discomfort. It is not a topic I would bring up without knowing the reception it would receive."

"Okay, that's fine and all," Jim replied. "But you've got to think about it like this. When you're dating someone, that person isn't exactly supposed to follow the usual rules for stuff like that." Jim struggled for a second, trying to think of a way to explain this that wouldn't get Spock even more confused than he already was. "Okay, think of it like this. The person you're dating is your, um…" Jim trailed off, waving a hand in the air. "Emotional support or whatever. And that means they expect you to go to them if you've got any problems. Without them asking, I mean."

Spock was silent. Jim contented himself with walking next to him and not worrying too much about what he'd said. It was true, after all. People relied on whoever they were dating instinctively. The fact that Spock didn't get this suggested to Jim that he and Uhura really wouldn't last, but now wasn't the time to say that. All he could hope to do was get his point across to Spock that Uhura actually did have a fair complaint. Sure, Jim disagreed on general principle, but then again he wasn't dating her. He could disagree without having to deal with the consequences. Spock was the one who was going to have to explain himself to her.

"I think I understand," Spock said, slowly. "Vulcans view relationships in a somewhat different manner."

"Really? How?" Jim asked, immediately curious despite his intentions to help Spock relax.

"Romantic relationships are not always the best source of emotional support," Spock said. "There are many instances of Vulcans who feel closer to a friend than a romantic partner."

"Are there?" Jim asked, frowning. "That's really weird."

"Is it?" Spock asked.

"Well, humans kind of fall on the idea that you should feel closest to who you're with," Jim explained. "Or dating or whatever you want to call it. Not everybody but a lot of them think so."

"It does appear that Uhura follows that mindset," Spock said. "I will have to consider this carefully."

"All right," Jim said. "It can be, like, your next lesson in being less Vulcan and more human."

"I will never be less Vulcan or more human," Spock stated, stiffly. "I am exactly half of both species."

"No, I didn't mean it like that," Jim said, frowning and biting his lower lip. He really was just so stupid sometimes. He could barely stand himself. "God, sorry, I was just saying that you'd said before that you were trying to learn how to live with humans, so this could be the next step in that whole process. But you're right, I shouldn't have said it like that. Sorry."

"You are already forgiven, Jim," Spock said. "I am used to your verbal… shenanigans."

Jim grinned so widely he thought his face would start hurting from it. "My verbal _shenanigans_?" he repeated. "Who _says_ that, seriously?"

"I could use a synonym if you feel it would be more appropriate," Spock replied.

"No," Jim said. "I think shenanigans is pretty awesome, actually."

They arrived at Spock's room and Jim waited while Spock opened the door. He paused inside the doorframe, and suddenly it hit Jim again just how much he liked Spock. The light in his room was dim thanks to how late it was, and from Jim's viewpoint it surrounded Spock until he was a silhouette in the doorway. The heat from his room only added to the strange sensation of living this moment from two different perspectives—someone who was a friend and someone who was in love.

"Well," Jim said, when they'd stood there staring at each other for long enough that Jim felt awkward about it. "Good night."

"Good night, Jim," Spock said. "I will see you in the morning."

Spock turned and went into his room. The door closed between them and then the effect was gone, quickly replaced by a sense of separation and loneliness. It was stupid how quickly he could go from feeling warm and fulfilled to feeling small and unsure.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That night Spock laid in his bed and thought about Uhura. She was a nice girl, a wonderful girl. She possessed many traits that Vulcans prized—intelligence, the ability to come to decisions quickly and with no fuss, the ability to separate her emotions from her actions. There was enough about her that was good and interesting that Spock had thought agreeing to be with her for six months wouldn't be so bad. He had thought he would simply get to know her better—learn more about what her interests were and why she became a xenolinguist and perhaps more personal information such as why she enjoyed singing or what her family was like. He hadn't imagined it would be this way. He felt pressured all the time. Everything he was doing was wrong where Uhura was concerned, and it seemed like his agreement to this six months had far-reaching consequences he hadn't been able to predict.

Now, though, all he could think was how right Jim had unintentionally been. Spock was half human and couldn't avoid that half, no matter how hard he tried to. There was a large part of him that did believe the strongest emotional connection people had should be with their lovers. That was both logical and convenient to him. Anything else led to problems like those he was currently having with Uhura. He didn't want to fight with her, but they had enough problems simply attempting to understand what the other one was saying. For some reason, Jim's confusing statements made sense to him while Uhura's had him puzzled. It was completely illogical. He needed to do something to fix his relationship with her before it deteriorated completely.

But then again, why did he have to act so human? He was also half Vulcan. There had to be a way to solve this issue that would satisfy him and not force him to choose between two polar opposites. There was always a middle ground. It was simply a matter of discovering what it was. In minutes, Spock came to the only conclusion he could. He had given his word to Uhura that he would try and make their relationship work, and so far all he had done was ignore her and be put off by her advances. She was sticking to their agreement while he wasn't. His behavior would be frowned upon by both Vulcans _and_ humans, which was really saying something. So at the very least, he needed to make an effort to abide by the terms he had agreed to. To do any less was to act in a way that was completely disrespectful to both of them.

With that thought in mind, Uhura's complaint began to make a lot more sense. Jim's explanation only convinced him that he had been in the wrong. He had been placing more importance on his relationship with Jim than on his relationship with Uhura, and although they were two different kinds of relationships, he could still understand why she would be frustrated when he had confided in Jim as opposed to her. It had been easy and natural to talk to Jim—it always was. With Uhura, it was always a struggle. But that was most likely because he had been giving Jim more of his time and consideration. If he focused on Uhura, things would be different.

Spock immediately got up and walked out of his room towards Uhura's quarters. He didn't want to let this fight progress any further. He would apologize and try to make some gesture that she would appreciate. Hopefully that would assuage her fears as well as convince Spock himself that he was beginning to act in the way he should have been acting all along.

When Spock got to Uhura's quarters, he knocked on her door and waited for her to answer. It took only a few moments. She opened the door and blinked at him, confused.

"Spock?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"

He hesitated. What could he say? He hadn't thought this entirely through. He didn't want to admit to her that he hadn't been paying her enough attention, but he also didn't want to cause her any more distress. There was definitely something he could say that would put her at ease. But he couldn't think of anything. Instead of standing there trying to come up with something useful to say, Spock decided to go with his human half and use action. It was what Jim would do. He took a step towards Uhura, who still looked at him as if she didn't have any idea why he was there, and then pressed his lips to hers, so briefly he wondered if she would even know he had done it. When he stepped back she was looking at him with a small smile.

"Spock?" she asked. This time, though, her tone was lighter and obviously pleased.

"I apologize," Spock said, quietly. "You were right. I will try harder to make this relationship a successful one." That had been their deal, after all. If he didn't even try, what could he say at the end of the six months? That he had spent that whole time avoiding her and he didn't feel a connection with her so he wasn't going to continue dating her? That wouldn't be fair to her. It would also be a complete waste of both of their time and energy.

"Good," Uhura said, tilting her head and smiling at him.

"I will see you tomorrow," Spock stated.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," she replied. She closed the door to her quarters as he turned away and walked back the way he had come.

Spock walked in quick, short strides down the corridor. His hands were clutched behind his back, fingers tightly gripping each other. This could only work if he gave it a fair chance. He wasn't prepared to go back on his word in such a huge, disconcerting way. If he wasn't entirely comfortable with the situation, well, he could learn to become more comfortable with it. It was only a matter of training and attitude. Vulcans were taught that from an early age—thought could overcome any bodily discomfort. There was no reason to let his emotions win. None at all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there was DISASTER when getting this chapter out. I'm staying at jelost's house for the week, and lo and behold, there's a fucking tornado warning. So this massive storm came and shut the power off for almost thirteen hours, just when I was in the middle of writing the last section of this. Then the power was out for about 14-15 hours, and then when it came back on, the internet was broke. So I had to wait for jelost to get home from work so she could fix it b/c kicking it did nothing and I had no more ideas. AND THEN WHEN I'D FINALLY GOTTEN ALMOST TO THE END OF THIS CHAPTER--Word crashed seven times in ten minutes and I had to write the rest of it in Notepad, and re-write a bunch that Word had made into *'s and boxes. DDDDDDD: Apologies to everybody, but especially to animegirl0087 who bribed me with Star Trek merch to get this part out yesterday AND to nix_this who bribed me with more fanart to get this part out sooner than I did. I AM EPIC FAIL, but it's really not my fault this time! Oh, and in case anyone's curious/counting, I've hit over 100,000 words in my Apogee Word file. A bunch of it hasn't been posted yet, but still... \o/ ~~Also, I really want to write some porn.~~

Spock was everything his step-father would hate. Not that he minded. Not that he _cared_. Because he didn't. But he couldn't help thinking it all the same. Spock was the exact opposite of anyone he would ever consider bringing home only because of the reception they'd get. Spock was not only a man, but also an alien. And a Vulcan at that, and Jim knew what his step-father thought about Vulcans. They looked human enough on the outside, but on the inside they were so different it was disgusting. They could masquerade as human, could pretend to enjoy the company of humans, but they always held themselves to a higher level, and they always came out with logic that defied pure common sense. Even their hearts were _literally_ in the wrong place. Jim could hear his step-father's voice clearly, ranting as always. He cleared his mind to block out the sound and tried to concentrate on what he knew.

He knew being with Spock was what he wanted. He didn't know how he was going to go about starting a romance with the man, since clearly all of his usual ideas would be wasted and probably end up in humiliating failure. He also didn't know that being with another _guy_ was what he wanted. But for some reason, that didn't seem to matter when he was talking about Spock. Spock didn't fall into the same category other guys did. He was completely different in all these new and exciting ways, and it was nearly impossible to conceal his joy every time Jim learned anything more about him. So being with Spock romantically was just completely appealing to Jim in every way. There was nothing about it that seemed wrong to him, and if other people thought it was wrong they could go screw themselves.

But then again, that wasn't entirely true. What worried Jim the most about getting with a guy wasn't really the physical aspect of it. It was more the response he'd get from other people. He knew most people were all right with homosexuality now, but there was no way to be _sure_ about it until it would be too late to write it off as a bad joke. He'd been friends with McCoy for years and he still didn't feel comfortable telling McCoy he might be a tiny bit on the gay side. He didn't want to risk a disaster over something that might not ever happen. He didn't think McCoy would react badly—but then again they had never discussed it before and maybe the fact it had never come up, even in general conversation, was proof enough that McCoy didn't want to talk about it. But what did that mean? They hadn't discussed a lot of topics. For instance, golf. Jim and McCoy had never really sat down and talked about golf. But that didn't mean Jim thought McCoy was anti-golf. It just meant McCoy had no real interest in golf, and neither did Jim, so it wasn't something they talked about. But if Jim suddenly developed an intense, burning interest in golf, he was sure McCoy would listen to him. Well, mostly sure. Worst case scenario, McCoy would laugh at him and tell him to go bother somebody else. Which, come to think of it, was exactly the problem.

Then there was Spock. Who knew what he thought of homosexuality, or what Vulcans in general thought of it? Jim hadn't given it much consideration because there was nothing he could do to change Spock's mind either way, but a lot of the time Spock worked under rules that Jim was just beginning to understand. If a culture was based on ignoring emotions, how much were they supposed to ignore them? Entirely, or just enough that outsiders _thought_ they were unemotional? How emotional did Vulcans get, when they weren't being observed by members of other species? And what about if an emotion was so intense that it was impossible to ignore? What would be more logical—ignoring something you desired or accepting it? And what if what you desired was illogical to begin with? Was it logical to ignore an emotion that was logically illogical?

… See, this was why Jim didn't give the idea too much time to bang around inside his head and become more and more jumbled. What he knew was fairly simple. He'd keep it that way if he could. All he knew was that Spock was dating Uhura, apparently now because he wanted to rather than just going along with their deal, and that Spock had never expressed an opinion one way or the other on a relationship with Jim—except for way back in their first week on the Enterprise together when Spock had called Jim his friend. Jim had been happy to accept that at the time, and he still thrilled about it, really. Now, though, he wondered if there was even a way to bring up what Spock thought about him without seeming unhinged. He'd have to think of something to say soon, though. He'd never been patient. Not even when it mattered.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The sick bay was the last place Jim wanted to visit. He still hadn't come up with a good way to talk to McCoy about everything he'd been panicking about, and he knew visiting sick bay was like asking for McCoy to grill him. But he'd gotten notice that Scotty had been injured fixing something or other in engineering. No matter how much Jim wanted to avoid McCoy at the moment, he wasn't going to insult Scotty by not paying him a visit. He'd already been assured the injury was a minor one—a burn along his forearm that would heal in a day or two—but Scotty was both his Chief Engineer and a personal friend. Jim was going to visit him even if it meant sprinting out of sick bay and down the corridor afterwards to avoid McCoy.

Luckily, Scotty was sitting on the bed closest to the door. Jim took this as a lucky break and strode over to him, shaking his head.

"What did you do?" Jim asked, sighing.

"It's not _entirely_ my fault this time, Captain," Scotty replied. "I found out the hard way that one of the grates covering a metal pipe was loose." He held his arm out, burn side up, and Jim grimaced at the harsh blistering skin.

"Ugh," Jim muttered, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth. "You're lucky Bones knows what he's doing, otherwise you'd have serious problems."

"Well, I like to think of it as a learning opportunity," Scotty said. "Now I can safely say that it would be a bad idea to burn myself again."

Jim grinned. "Good thing, then."

"I think so," Scotty agreed.

"So why was the grate loose?" Jim asked. "That's unusual." Scotty looked towards the wall and then briefly around the room, going for casual but coming off as obviously avoiding the question. "Scotty."

" _Well_ ," Scotty said, scrunching his nose up and pursing his lips. "The important thing is it's fixed now."

" _Scotty_ ," Jim repeated, hoping his tone gave off how unhappy he was with that answer.

"Don't worry about it," Scotty said, waving a hand at Jim. "I took care of it."

Jim smiled despite himself as a thought struck him. "Are you protecting someone?"

Scotty scoffed at him, waving his uninjured hand at Jim for the second time in less than thirty seconds. "That's ridiculous talk, Captain. Riii _di_ culous."

"Uh huh," Jim said, grinning. "Tell me who screwed up and we'll pretend you didn't, how's that?"

"Look, it's seriously not a problem," Scotty said, shrugging. "Just one of the newbies who thought there were only two safety locks instead of three." He waved his burned arm at Jim. "She knows _now_."

Jim rolled his eyes. "I guess so."

He didn't want to press Scotty on the identity of the cadet because clearly Scotty didn't want any of his subordinates to get into trouble with the Captain if he could help it. Also, Jim knew Scotty was right. Whoever this cadet was, she definitely was feeling guilty about causing an injury due to her mistake. Jim knew she wouldn't be repeating the same error. The real question was, would she make any _more_ mistakes that would get _other_ people injured?

Engineering was a tough department. Maybe the toughest one in the whole ship. They were in charge of keeping everything running— _everything_. Lights, turbo lift, life support, doors, garbage disposal chutes, engines, wall communicators, transporter, water filtration—all of that and more was up to Engineering to maintain. Sure, Maintenance did a fantastic job fixing the small problems and most of the time one specific piece of equipment was at least under the jurisdiction of two departments to care for, but when things truly broke down it was almost always up to Engineering to get them running again. All of that meant that not only was Engineering the toughest and perhaps most important department to work in, but also that the crew members in Engineering were often over-stressed and under-appreciated.

It would be difficult for any new officers with no experience to get thrown into Engineering, even if they had been trained exceptionally well. Usually new officers were spread out among several starships so that a group of more experienced people could watch over them and give them the individual attention they needed. Of course thanks to the Nero incident, Starfleet was short on starships _and_ officers. Jim knew the Enterprise wasn't the only ship with too many novices on board, but that didn't make the situation any better. Shit, Jim himself was a novice at command. The only officers with any sort of previous experience were Spock and Scotty, with McCoy coming in just after them. Nearly everyone else needed to be watched over by people who knew what they were doing because, even though the majority of his officers had been well trained and would have graduated without problems, Jim knew that nobody knew what they were doing one hundred percent of the time.

Still, having an experienced set of eyes in each department was a luxury Jim didn't have. There weren't many actions he could take to try and fix the problem, but he'd start with the simplest one and move on from there until everyone had really settled in to their positions.

"All right, I'm not going to force you to tell me," Jim said. Scotty looked relieved. " _But_ ," Jim said, and Scotty immediately went back to being worried. "I want you to start having weekly drills for everyone in your department. Make up problems and get them to fix them, explain to them the most common mistakes, that sort of thing."

"Captain, they're already working too much," Scotty said, frowning. "I've got people doing twelve and fifteen hour days."

"You think I don't already know that?" Jim snapped.

Scotty's reply was immediate and sincere. "Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to imply—"

Jim ran a hand over his face. "No, it's okay, sorry." He shook his head, frowning. He shouldn't get angry when Scotty was just looking out for the officers in his department, but this wasn't a new complaint and there was still nothing he could do to fix it. "Look, every department is short-staffed. There's nothing any of us can do about that until we get more officers, and who knows when that'll be." Jim sighed, rolling his shoulders tiredly. "Right now what we can do is work on training the officers we have so that, when we _do_ get new people, we'll be better able to deal with them. Besides, it's not like the drills need to be long. Don't let them last for longer than half an hour, and make sure you cover the basics first. Safety protocol, definitely, then go into whatever other mistakes you're seeing a lot of."

"Yes, sir," Scotty said, face blank. "I know you're dealing with a lot. I shouldn't have said—"

"Me?" Jim repeated, waving Scotty's apology away with a careless gesture. "All I have to do is sit on my chair all day long. You're the one who's running around burning yourself on loose grates."

"Ah," Scotty said, shrugging. "It builds character."

"Maybe that's why everyone's been visiting me so often," McCoy said. Jim turned around, surprised, and saw McCoy walking towards them, holding a vial and some bandages. "You'd better watch out, Jim. This ship's going to explode from how much character the crew has."

"If the ship explodes, I'm blaming Scotty," Jim said, jerking a thumb behind him. "He knows that already, though."

"Okay, ha ha," Scotty said, rolling his eyes. "That was only that one time, all right? Why everyone's got to keep bringing that up, I _don't_ know."

"Well, guess I'll see you two later," Jim said. He started to leave but McCoy grabbed his arm.

"Why don't you stay a while," McCoy stated in a tone that clearly indicated it was not a request.

"Oh, you know, busy with being the Captain," Jim replied, laughing nervously. "Got to go… fire somebody."

"You just told me all you do is sit around in your chair," Scotty said.

"Do you want that raise or not?" Jim asked, not even looking back at him in case McCoy accidentally gave Jim a chance to make a run for it.

"He's a very busy man, Bones," Scotty said, frowning at McCoy. "Leave the poor guy alone."

"Do you want that burn healed or not?" McCoy asked, still staring at Jim challengingly.

Scotty paused. "I think I'm going to sit here and wait this one out."

McCoy let go of Jim's arm and said, "I'm going to take care of Scotty's arm. Then we're going to talk." He stabbed a finger in Jim's chest. "If you run out that door, I will chase you down and drag your ass back here."

He would do it, too. Jim _knew_ McCoy wouldn't give a shit about running after him, probably while yelling embarrassing personal information for everyone else to hear. Or, at the very least, he'd stride after Jim and corner him in his room or on the bridge. In another situation, it'd be funny. If Jim was watching McCoy harass someone else, it'd be _hysterical_. But as it was Jim just felt resigned. McCoy was going to force him to talk, or at least to stumble around groping for something to say. There wasn't a whole lot Jim could do about it. He didn't really want to avoid McCoy any more than he already had. That ability to rely on his best friend through any situation was something he valued. Either McCoy would understand or…

When he realized there was no acceptable way to finish that sentence, the decision was already half-made. "Fine," Jim mumbled, feeling like a petulant child. McCoy glared at him. "What? I'm waiting."

McCoy eyed him suspiciously. But his medical training won out, as Jim knew it would, and he turned to Scotty to put some cream and spray on his burn. Oddly enough, the option of running was immediately dismissed. It popped in Jim's head right away because he had the chance, a clear path to the door, and McCoy was distracted. But if he did that, he'd only make the situation worse later. He was going to have to deal with the fact that McCoy and him were going to _talk_ , and that the talking would most likely involve Jim pouring his heart out like old bathwater and hoping McCoy didn't mind getting his shoes wet.

Minutes later Scotty was off, thanks to the miracles of modern medicine. Jim couldn't believe there had been a time where people had to wait hours, or even _days_ , to get medical treatment. He couldn't imagine what those people had to go through. It was bad enough waiting the few minutes for normal medical care.

McCoy was standing still, waiting for Jim to make the first move—probably to make some kind of comment that would give McCoy something to go on. Well, Jim wasn't going to give him anything of the sort. If McCoy wanted to talk about something, he could damn well bring it up himself.

"So…" Jim began, trailing off. McCoy looked at him, obviously waiting for him to say something else. It took a few seconds for a topic to pop into his head. "How do you feel about… golf?" Jim asked, tone hopeful.

McCoy stared at him incredulously. "I don't give a damn about _golf_."

"Oh," Jim replied, shoulders slumping. Well then.

"Jim, what the hell is going on?" McCoy asked.

"What do you mean?" Jim hoped McCoy would drop it because he really wasn't sure what to say if he didn't.

"You're acting strange," McCoy said, shaking his head.

"You always say that," Jim said.

"Strange even for you," McCoy clarified.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jim replied. He hadn't been acting _that_ oddly. Besides, what was he supposed to do? Completely ignore this whole mid-twenties crisis he was having?

"I don't understand why you won't tell me," McCoy said. His eyes had softened but his stance and tone were still annoyed.

Jim shoved his hands in his pockets. "Won't tell you what?"

McCoy gave him a _look_. "What's bothering you."

"Okay," Jim said, rolling his eyes. "And once _again_ , what are you talking about?"

McCoy's jaw clenched. Jim didn't want to start a fight, but he couldn't be sure what McCoy knew and what he had only guessed. Plus, he didn't want to start spouting out anything that really wasn't necessary to admit just yet.

"Are you really pulling this crap with me?" McCoy asked, eyes narrowed. "Because you know I don't react well to bullshit."

"Look, I don't know what you're talking about," Jim stated, shaking his head. "What, you think I'm psychic now? If you want to ask me about something, just do it."

McCoy practically _growled_. "You're being a fucking _child_ ," he snapped. Jim took a step back before he realized he'd done so. "If I have to call you out, I'm going to be so, _so_ irritated that I'll find an excuse to give you a shot every day for the next _year_."

Jim knew it was a lie, just a bluff meant to get him to start talking. Oddly, when McCoy got this angry, Jim found himself able to think clearer. He wasn't quite ready to tell McCoy just yet, not only because of what the consequences would be, but also because McCoy didn't seem ready to have this conversation either. Besides, sick bay was always staffed by at least one or two nurses and had frequent visits from the crew. Was this really the right location for what promised to be a serious discussion, or at least a discussion that Jim wanted to remain private?

"All right, calm down," Jim said, holding up a hand in between them and lowering it slowly towards the ground. "How about I meet up with you later?"

"When later?" McCoy asked, frowning. "If you're trying to get out of this—"

"I'm not, I swear," Jim said. "It's just…" He gestured around the room at the nurses and the three crewmen getting treatment. "You know."

McCoy's face softened. "Yeah, okay. Fine. But then tonight."

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "I'll come back tonight, when everybody's gone."

"It's always dead around two," McCoy stated.

Jim scratched at his nose. "Two. Got it." He let his hand drop and shoved it into his pocket. "Are we done now?"

"Yeah, we're done," McCoy said.

"Good," Jim replied. "Because I've got important work to do. Can't keep a ship running if the Captain's slacking off, you know."

"Really?" McCoy asked, nodding as if in incredibly deep thought. "You could've fooled me."

"I didn't though," Jim said, pointedly.

"You weren't fooling anybody," McCoy said, shaking his head. "But you would never have fooled me." 

Jim left with the thought that they both knew they were talking about something entirely different. Not that it mattered much. There'd be time enough later to talk about what he really didn't want to.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was difficult, to say the least, to deal with some of the crew. Despite being both inexperienced and nervous, some of them also had other quirks that Spock had no idea how to deal with. Some people stood up straighter when he spoke to them and were silent for the entire time. Others looked around, fidgeting, clearly uncomfortable when dealing with commanding officers. A few people smiled while a few frowned; some were casual and others were formal; some tried to lengthen the conversation while others tried to shorten it.

It was such circumstantial, odd behavior that Spock didn't know how to deal with. There was no one right way to address the crew members, but there were plenty of wrong ways. Some days it seemed like all he did was discover more wrong ways to talk to people.

Luckily, today was not that kind of day. Everything progressed more smoothly than it usually did, which was most likely in direct correlation with Wilshaw getting kicked off the ship. Jim hadn't ever shown that side of his Captaincy before—the side that Spock knew would eventually lead him to become extraordinary. The crew had received an unwelcome surprise when they had realized that Jim wasn't _actually_ their best friend. He was their Captain, and that meant he could be as nice or as unyielding as he wanted to be without having to explain or apologize to anyone.

Spock didn't have that problem. No one had ever mistaken him for a friend instead of the First Officer. There were a few exceptions to that rule, but for the most part everyone knew their place when dealing with him.

Chekov was one of those exceptions. He was currently sitting across from Spock in one of the meeting rooms. They had just finished a meeting with all the officers in the science department. There had been some general concern that certain jobs were being given to the same officers when they were supposed to be going through rotation. Spock had reassigned a few people and informed a few others that since he was the head of the department, they didn't actually get a say in how it was run. Overall, it had been a normal meeting with nothing to stand out, except that Chekov was loitering afterwards and looking at Spock as if he had something he really wanted to say. For the life of him, Spock would never understand why humans didn't just say what was on their minds as opposed to hoping it would become blindingly apparent simply by their stances and fervent looks.

"Yes, Mr. Chekov?" Spock asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, Mr. Spock, I didn't see you there," Chekov said, still staring right at him.

"I see," Spock stated.

"But since we're both here, together, at the same time, I was thinking maybe we could talk," Chekov said. "Sir." He started looking shiftily around, as if he expected someone else to pop out of the background and interfere.

Spock quite hoped someone _would_ interfere, since Spock wasn't sure what Chekov wanted and was absolutely sure he wanted no part of it. "You may proceed," Spock said.

"Thanks, sir," Chekov replied. "I was wondering, um…" He trailed off, laughing nervously, and then stopped suddenly. "How are things with the Captain?" Spock's eyebrow rose even further. "I mean, you two are, um, doing well?"

"The Captain and I are both fine," Spock replied, unsure exactly why Chekov was asking him this now.

"Oh, good," Chekov said, letting out a long breath. "I was worried because, well, you know how he's been acting. But that's good, that everything's fine. Sir."

"Yes," Spock stated. He wasn't entirely sure what Chekov was referring to and he was completely lost on his overall point. But he had noticed Jim acting a bit unusually since they had gotten back from Lambda Four. It might be a bigger problem than he had thought it was if even the crew was noticing. He'd wait a few more days and see if Jim's behavior continued or not. It could just be that he was over-stressed. Maybe Spock could do something to help him relax—take on more shifts, perhaps. "Is that all, Mr. Chekov?"

"Well, sir, I just wanted to say that, um, I think that it's great that the Captain didn't stand for that kind of thing," Chekov said. At Spock's blank look, he continued, "I mean Wilshaw, sir. He deserved what he got."

"I am sure the Captain will appreciate your support, however unnecessary it is," Spock stated. Jim could do whatever he wanted to, regardless of what the crew thought. It was good to know that there were officers who agreed with him, though. Jim would probably enjoy hearing about that.

"Um… okay," Chekov replied. "I'll just be going then. Sir."

Spock watched Chekov leave and wondered exactly what it was he'd wanted to talk about. Human behavior was constantly becoming more involved. Spock might need to start collecting his mental notes into something more solid. He wasn't sure he'd be able to understand all of the complexities any other way.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Uhura was probably one of the only people Sarek would approve of Spock having a relationship with. She was intelligent and able to engage in deep theoretical conversation with him, but at the same time she had a strong emotional side that almost always came out when they were together. She was unlike his mother, who had a quiet strength about her and who had been able to love unconditionally with little fuss. However, Spock had never encountered someone like his mother, and Uhura had enough positive traits and merits of her own that the lack of similar features wasn't an issue. She was human, of course, with all that implied, but the fact that Sarek married a human was proof to Spock that his father was open-minded enough to accept inter-species marriages.

Still, Spock wasn't sure Uhura was the right person for him. He had already decided he would withhold judgment until the end of their arrangement. He would abide by that decision regardless of his emotions, which were only counter-productive to making an informed decision. However, it was obvious that emotions played a role in determining romantic relationships, and it would illogical to completely ignore them. Spock was sure that thought was due solely to his human half, since most Vulcans would have cringed at the idea of admitting they even _had_ emotions. But Spock was learning to accept both of his halves, even though they almost never agreed with each other.

That was entirely the problem when he thought about romance. Vulcans and humans viewed the matter on two entirely different levels, and Spock just wasn't sure which one he agreed with. There was logic and the collected knowledge of millions of people in both viewpoints. Emotions were of course strongest when dealing in this matter, but emotion was a fickle thing. Even when a person felt something incredibly strongly, there was always the possibility that it would fade over time or change into an entirely new feeling. This was more common in humans than in Vulcans simply because, by the time most Vulcans allowed themselves to submit to an emotion, that emotion was so strong and had been ongoing for so long that it would be illogical to continue denying it. However humans were able to give in to such strong emotion earlier, thereby eliminating years of internal debate and stress.

The problem was one Spock had no answer to. Thankfully, he didn't need one. His feelings towards Uhura were not what he would call romantic, and even though he would wait to judge what the outcome of their relationship would be, a part of him already knew there was no feasible way his emotions could alter that drastically in less than four months. Spock was pragmatic, careful, and hesitant when dealing with his emotions. He was willing to work on accepting them more than he had been because a life with humans seemed to demand that. However, he wasn't willing to jump into anything and he certainly wasn't willing to ignore his feelings when they were relevant to the situation. His emotions were immediate but he was slow to accept and understand them, so that it took him far longer than the average human to reach conclusions that dealt with emotions.

He didn't particularly mind giving himself the time he needed to sort through his feelings and then to decide whether or not to act on them or allow them to be noticed by others. The other humans he had come into contact with all seemed put-off by his method, with the noticeable exception of Jim who was an exception to _everything_. Everyone else seemed to have a difficult time grasping that Spock simply wasn't comfortable showing his emotions. He was trying to become accustomed to the idea. Eventually, he thought he would manage to show emotions without feeling inherently _wrong_. It was just a matter of slowly teaching himself that repressing his emotions was not the only acceptable way of dealing with them. He knew it would take some time, since he was working against years of incredibly strict and thorough repression. Still, it would happen if he wanted it to. The only thing left was to decide if the human way of dealing emotions really was better than the Vulcan way or not. Unfortunately, there was no precedent to study or learn from. He'd have to figure this problem out on his own.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Going to sick bay that night was a trial of self-endurance. Jim knew he'd agreed, and he knew McCoy would be furious if he backed out. That didn't seem to have any effect at all on the little voice screaming at him that he was being an idiot, that he was about to lose his best friend, and that any rationalizations he was making were just excuses that he could comfort himself with later, after everything had been destroyed.

Luckily his panic had induced a plan of sorts. He could start McCoy off slowly, just by broaching the topic, and maybe he could get McCoy to focus more on the general idea of dating guys than on the idea of Jim being in semi-love with one particular guy who perhaps didn't need to be mentioned at all. In fact, the more Jim thought about it the more he was sure he could keep McCoy off-balanced long enough to satisfy his apparently ridiculous need for information and yet _also_ keep all of the most important details to himself. It was a great plan. The problem with it was that he was dealing with McCoy, and so of course things got turned around and all screwed up the minute he got there.

"So, what's on your mind?" McCoy asked, patting a bed invitingly.

Jim shook his head, preferring to stand in case he needed to pace or run or attempt to fidget unnoticeably. "Well, there's this thing."

"Thing?" McCoy repeated.

"Yeah. I've got a…" Jim hesitated, trying to come up with another word and failing miserably. "Thing for…" He paused again, deciding that it was probably better to be subtle. "Somebody."

"Wait, let me get this straight," McCoy said. He pressed his fingers into his forehead briefly before giving Jim a look that consisted of one raised eyebrow, a half-curled lip, and a whole lot of horrified disbelief. "You want _me_ to give _you_ dating advice?"

After considering all possible responses, Jim settled for the simplest. "Yeah. That's what I want."

McCoy threw a hand up in the air and made a sweeping gesture. "Jim, you're the biggest player in the fleet." He let his hand drop and then narrowed his eyes. "Wait. Are you mocking me? Is _that_ what this is?"

"No," Jim protested. He shrugged. "I just need advice from someone I trust."

"But why do you need advice at all? Every girl you've ever met has practically thrown herself at you."

"Well…" Jim hesitated. He knew he'd have to come clean about this part of the problem, but McCoy was a friend. A good friend, and Jim had no idea how he'd react. Still, McCoy was open-minded about plenty of other things, and it would be a mistake to assume everyone shared his step-father's prejudices. He'd known this part would be coming. He just hadn't expected it to come _now_. "That's the problem."

"What's the problem? That girls throw themselves at you all the damn time?" McCoy snorted. "Yes, Jim, I can see how you'd have a real _problem_ with that."

"No," Jim said, then groaned. "I meant the girls part."

McCoy held up a hand, effectively silencing him. "Now, Jim, hold on and just listen to me for a damn minute. I don't have enough experience with men to tell you how to do it. I mean it. You'd be better off asking someone else, maybe Chekov or Sulu. No, wait, Scotty, he's probably done it a few times."

It struck Jim suddenly that McCoy hadn't even paused. His response had been honest and immediate, without even a trace of surprise or unease. There were only two possible reasons for that—either McCoy was secretly hiding a life of homosexual experimentation from him, or McCoy had already known what Jim was going to say before the conversation had even started. The second explanation was much more likely than the first, since besides being incredibly hypocritical the first was just ludicrous for Jim to try and imagine. But the end result was the same.

Relief flooded through Jim. He'd been so worried that McCoy's immediate reaction would be negative, and instead all he got was the same tone McCoy always used for everything. It was like he didn't even care that Jim was talking about liking another guy. Jim had never heard of such a blasé reaction to homosexuality before. He'd known people were open-minded about it, but he hadn't known he'd get a reaction that was so completely… _normal_.

"You're not upset, or disgusted, or anything?" The words were out of Jim's mouth before he could think twice about them. It might be an odd question at this point, but he needed to know. He didn't want to assume McCoy was fine with everything only to find out later the exact opposite was true.

McCoy looked surprised and a bit offended. "Why the hell would you think that?" He waved a hand to silence whatever reply Jim would have made. "Listen, Jim. I know your step-father was an asshole, but come on. You need to get over it." He stopped short, frowning. "I didn't mean it that way, but it's the truth. It's the twenty-third century. People are more accepting now than they've ever been, you know that."

"I know," Jim said. When McCoy made a face, Jim repeated, "I _know_ , all right?"

"Then stop worrying about it." McCoy took a breath and continued, "I know it was shit. And that sucks. It really does. But eventually you need to—"

"Bones," Jim interrupted, loudly. "Thanks, but really, just… not now, all right?" He smiled a little, rolling his eyes. "One crisis at a time, how about that?"

McCoy frowned. "Being gay isn't a crisis, Jim. It's not something you should be stressed out over."

" _Gay_?" Jim repeated, voice squeaking. "I'm not gay. Not even close. I'm just…"

McCoy gave Jim a blatantly disbelieving look. "Hm?" he muttered, looking inquiringly at Jim. "Just what? Attracted to guys?"

"Well… _yeah_ ," Jim said, frowning.

"That means you're gay," McCoy said, speaking very slowly with equal importance on every word.

"But not _every_ guy," Jim said, quickly. "Just this one in particular."

"Oh, come on," McCoy scoffed. "I've _seen_ you checking out guys before. Are you seriously going to try and give me that shit _now_?"

"You have _not_ ," Jim said, reverting back to a child on a playground. "I mean, I've never checked out a guy in my life! Except for this one. But he doesn't count!"

"You are going to give me this shit, aren't you?" McCoy asked, sighing.

"It's just that I don't see why liking _one_ guy has to make me gay," Jim said. He began pacing in front of McCoy, just a few steps in either direction before turning on his heel to do it again. "I mean, I've been with tons of chicks. _Loads_ of them. That's got to count for something, right?"

"First of all, if you don't stop pacing I am going to kill you with my bare hands," McCoy said. Jim stopped in front of him and crossed his arms, tapping his fingers anxiously against his arm. "Second, you haven't been with _that_ many girls."

"I have," Jim said, affronted.

"Third," McCoy continued, ignoring him, "having sex with someone doesn't mean you're attracted to them. And besides, gay people can have sex with members of the opposite sex. So even if you do have sex with thousands of girls, it doesn't make you straight. Or even bisexual."

"No, but I did like having sex with some of those girls," Jim said, tapping his foot nervously against the floor. "So at least that means I'm, what, an experimenting heterosexual?"

"No," McCoy said, flatly. "It means you're bisexual. Or just a very confused gay man."

"Well, I'm not confused about anything," Jim replied, quickly. "So maybe bi. I could accept bi."

"All right," McCoy said, shrugging. "Bi, then. Which still means you like guys, by the way."

"Only some—only one, _one_ guy!" Jim protested, flinging his hands through the air to try and get McCoy to understand his epic mistake. "That barely counts at all!"

McCoy shook his head. "It counts enough. And the fact that you're arguing this so much is ridiculous. There's nothing wrong with being gay or bi." He paused in a way that had Jim immediately worried about what he would say next. "You _do_ know that, right?"

"Don't be an asshole," Jim said, scowling. "Of course I know that."

"Then what's the problem?" McCoy asked.

"Nothing, there's no problem," Jim replied.

"Well, that's a relief," McCoy said. "And here I'd thought you were freaking out for the past two weeks."

"I'm not freaking out," Jim said, defensive and slowly realizing McCoy was just as sharp as he'd always been. He wondered how he'd forgotten. The Sudden Spock Syndrome might have had something to do with it.

"Good," McCoy said. "Then just go to this guy and use your charm. I'm sure it'll work as well as it always does," McCoy said. He made a dismissive motion. "Now leave me in peace to work."

Jim groaned. McCoy was controlling this conversation way too much, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it. "You don't understand, this isn't just any guy!"

"Oh dear God," McCoy said. "I'm about to be subjected to the rant of a twelve-year-old girl with a crush, aren't I?"

Jim glared at him. "Don't be an idiot." He shrugged and said, "It's just that he's… well, very different from anyone else I've ever met. And I'm not sure how to approach him without accidentally, you know, scaring him off or offending him or something."

"So it has nothing to do with the fact that you're a guy too?" McCoy looked at Jim as if he expecting to have to yell at him some more.

"No," Jim said. He scrunched his nose up and shrugged a bit. "Well, maybe a little. But I'm not really sure if this guy cares about that at all." Jim waved a hand in the air quickly, indicating just how clueless he was about what to do. "Like I said, he'd different."

"How different can he be?" McCoy asked. "All men are men, Jim. They're all after the same thing." He paused and shook his head, looking horrified at himself. "Good God, I sound like my mother."

"Look like her, too," Jim said, grinning. "But this guy really _is_ different."

"Okay," McCoy said. "How bad _is_ it?" Jim shook his head, confused. "Have you written on small pieces of scrap paper ‘do you like me? check yes or no'?" Jim narrowed his eyes. "Have you doodled your name and his with hearts all over?"

Jim bit his lower lip, trying to keep from smiling. "How many hearts does there have to be for it to count?"

"Only one, Jim," McCoy said, seriously. "One heart is enough." He paused, and Jim tried to keep himself from taking anything too serious out of that last comment. "Especially if it's outlined in glitter pen."

"Screw you," Jim said, rolling his eyes. "I'd never use glitter pen."

"Right, then." McCoy sat on the nearest hospital bed and gestured to Jim. "Who is it? Do I know him?"

"Uh," Jim said, stalling. It seemed obvious in retrospect, but he hadn't actually thought that he'd have to tell McCoy who it was he was interested in. He'd thought he could keep the conversation general and safe. Not that he was ashamed of liking Spock—quite the opposite, actually. Spock was one of the few beings Jim had encountered who was actually _good_. Spock wanted people to be happy, he wanted peace, he wanted to do the right thing, and he always wanted to be respectable and honorable. But with McCoy sitting there staring at him, it was hard to figure out just what to say to explain his feelings for his logical, unflappable Vulcan First Officer.

"Oh, come on," McCoy said, frowning. "Did you actually think you could come here for advice on your gay love drama and not tell me who the other man is?"

"Yes?"

McCoy glared at him.

"No, I mean, psh, no… _obviously_ ," Jim said, hoping he didn't sound too awkward. He sighed. "Look, you can't tell anyone else about this, all right? It's bad enough knowing you're going to know."

"Will you just get on with it?!" McCoy shouted. "I'm a doctor, not a matchmaker, for God's sake. I'm not getting paid to sit here and help you with your love life."

"Spock."

"What?" McCoy asked, looking oddly resigned. "What about him?"

"It's Spock," Jim said quietly.

McCoy stared at him for a few seconds before he burst out laughing. Jim glared at him as he laughed so hard he had to hold onto the edge of the hospital bed for support. McCoy's chuckles echoed through the room, multiplying them, and if he didn't stop laughing soon Jim was going to punch him.

"Are you done?" Jim asked.

McCoy licked his lips and nodded, swiping a hand across his eyes to get rid of the moisture that had collected there. He took a second to compose himself before he got off the hospital bed and walked to stand in front of Jim.

"What?" Jim asked, leaning backwards a bit.

McCoy stared at him seriously before smacking him over the head. Jim scowled and clutched at the pain.

"What the hell?!" Jim shouted, hissing. "I'm your commanding officer, you can't do that to me!"

"Are you _insane_?!" McCoy shook his head and took a few steps backwards, throwing his hands up in the air. "Spock? _Spock_?!"

Jim narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"He's a pointy-eared bastard, that's what that means," McCoy said.

"He's not," Jim protested, already regretting he'd said anything.

"He is and you know it. That's why you're worried."

"You're wrong," Jim said. "He's not like that."

"Think what you want. It doesn't change facts."

"You know what? Forget it," Jim said. He shook his head and turned around. "I don't even know why I bothered talking to you."

McCoy strode forward to grab Jim's arm, effectively stopping him from leaving. "You bothered because I'm your best friend and the only person on this ship who's known you since you entered Starfleet."

"Yeah, well, I guess I screwed up," Jim said. "Because you're not helping. At all."

"Look, I know what you're trying to say," McCoy said. "I mean, I've seen you with him. I'm not blind. And maybe I thought…" He sighed and shook his head once, decisively. "But you need to get over it."

"I don't know what you—"

"This thing you're feeling? It's not going to turn out how you want it to," McCoy said. He released Jim's arm. "Spock isn't the kind of guy who would sleep with you just because you're curious about it."

"It's not like that," Jim said, frowning. "Why are you being this way?"

"Jim, with you it's always like that," McCoy said. "And you need to remember it."

"It is _not_ ," Jim stated. He was more than a little hurt than McCoy thought he was a whore. "Sleeping around with a few people doesn't make me a slut, Bones."

"Well, no," McCoy agreed. "But you've never had a serious relationship before. And you're only just now wondering about guys." He ran a hand through his hair. "What, you think your first time with a guy is going to be more than just curiosity?"

"Yeah," Jim said, challenging. "I do."

"You don't know that," McCoy said. "You might try it and hate it. Or you might learn something you didn't realize would be involved. And you've only ever slept with people and then left them."

"Not with him," Jim said. "With Spock, it'd be different."

"You said that about nearly every girl you've slept with in the past three years!"

Jim raised his chin. "I'm a different person now," he said. "Captain of the Enterprise. I can tell the difference between a bit of lust and the real thing, Bones."

McCoy was silent for a moment. "Is that what you think? That you'd have the ‘real thing' with Spock?"

"I know it," Jim said.

"You can't be sure," McCoy said. "And if things went badly, he'd be the one to leave the ship. He's an asshole, but he's a good First Officer. It'd be a shame to lose him over something like this."

Jim opened his mouth to retort, but he found he had nothing to say. After a few moments, he swallowed and said, "If I thought this was a passing thing, I wouldn't even have come to you about it. I'd have kept quiet until it passed, you know that."

"I know," McCoy said. "But you're still young, Jim. You don't realize what can happen, even when you think you're in love."

"Yeah, ‘cause you're so over the hill yourself, grandpa," Jim replied. 

"I'm older than you," McCoy stated. "And old enough to know what I'm talking about. You think I didn't love my ex-wife?"

"Bones, come on," Jim said, shoulders slumping. "I know you loved her."

"You're damn right I loved her," McCoy said. "That's why I married her. But things still fell apart." 

"So what are you saying?" Jim asked, frowning. "You expect me to just give up before I've even tried?"

"No, I expect you to think it through," McCoy said. "There's other factors involved with everybody, and when it's someone you work with, that's a whole other set of problems." He sighed. "There are always going to be problems with anybody, you know that. I'm not telling you anything new here."

"Yeah, I know," Jim agreed. "But that's why you work at it, if you really want it, right?"

"There are some people who just don't work together," McCoy replied.

"Spock and I work together," Jim said. "We get along great."

" _Now_ ," McCoy said. "What about when you tell him? He's dating Uhura, so I doubt he's going to be thrilled about this news."

"Tell him?" Jim repeated, eyes widening. His shoved his hands in his pockets. "Uhura's not a problem, he's breaking up with her soon, but…" McCoy snorted at Jim's response and Jim frowned at him, already knowing what McCoy thought about his answer. "That doesn't matter, okay? The Uhura thing will work itself out. But tell him, I mean, I don't know if I'm going to…"

"So you love him but you're not going to tell him?" McCoy asked.

"I… I don't know if I love him," Jim replied.

"All the more reason to stay out of it, then."

"But I think about him all the time," Jim continued, ignoring McCoy's response. "I look for him when I walk into a room. I mean, when he's at my side, I feel good, and when he's not, I miss him. It's weird. I've never thought those things about anyone before. I mean, _never_."

"Jim," McCoy said, sighing. "You just said you didn't know if you were in love."

"Well… I don't," Jim replied.

"That little speech sounds like you are," McCoy stated.

Jim shrugged. "I don't know what you want me to say. I don't think I should throw the word around. Especially not when I'm talking about him. It just… doesn't seem right."

McCoy gave Jim a long, searching look before briefly closing his eyes and throwing up his hands in mock surrender. "All right, fine. I get it. You're serious about this and nothing I say is going to change your mind."

"Yeah," Jim replied, grinning.

"I still don't know what you want me to do, exactly. It's not like I'm friends with him or anything," McCoy said. He grimaced and continued, "You want me to put in a good word, is that it? Give him a few clues? Say ‘Mr. Spock, here's the medical override code to get into the Captain's room in the middle of the night, just in case'?"

Jim looked horrified. "Bones, I swear, if you do that, I will _kill_ you."

McCoy looked equally horrified. "Believe me, I won't. Actually, I think I may have to go throw up."

Jim shook his head. "It's not that bad, really." He paused. "Is it?"

McCoy gave him a look. "Of all the people you could have chosen, it had to be him."

"It's not like you choose these things," Jim replied, slightly offended. "It just sort of happened."

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it before," McCoy responded. "Love is blind, and all of that nonsense. What _did_ you want from me, anyway?"

"Me?" Jim asked. "You're the one who forced me to come here."

"Only because you needed to," McCoy said. "So what was it?"

"I don't know," Jim said. "I guess just to talk."

"We talked," McCoy pointed out.

"So you're off the hook," Jim replied.

"Thank God," McCoy said. "I don't think I can take this much gay drama in one sitting."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two days later, Uhura was busy working two consecutive shifts which left Spock with some unexpected free time. The majority of his off-duty time was spent with Uhura now, thanks to his resolve to give that relationship a fair chance. He didn't exactly enjoy spending time with her. Often, that time was divided almost evenly between Uhura attempting to make small talk or sexual advances at him and Spock attempting to understand what she was trying to say. He still had no clue why humans felt a need to be so _physical_ all the time. Uhura apparently wanted to transplant herself into Spock's body. There were lines Spock would not cross with her because of his discomfort, but then there were points he had to concede if he was going to give her an honest chance. Kissing was acceptable as long as she didn't shove her tongue into his mouth. The first time she'd done so, Spock had almost bitten it off in shock. Hugging briefly was also fine. Holding hands was out of the question. Uhura thankfully had done her research on Vulcan culture and understood why Spock refused to participate in what most humans considered a small gesture. Still, all the research in the world wasn't going to help her if Spock wasn't that attracted to her.

So Spock was extremely relieved to have time away from her. Normally he would have preferred spending the time alone, either meditating or studying, but he hadn't spoken to Jim for a reason unrelated to work in a few days. Missing someone was an odd sensation for him, but Spock immediately realized what he was feeling and didn't mind it. Jim had an important place in Spock's life as his best, if not only, friend. Wanting to spend time with a friend was normal behavior in both Vulcan and human cultures. Accepting that he wanted to see a friend wasn't emotional—it was logical.

Jim was proving to be rather difficult to hunt down, though. After checking the bridge, the mess hall, and Jim's favorite recreation room, the only other option was his quarters. If Jim wasn't in his quarters, Spock would give up and spend the evening alone. He wasn't too keen on searching the ship for hours on end on a night meant for relaxing.

Spock knocked on Jim's door and it slid open, revealing a somewhat messy and wide-eyed Captain.

"What?" Jim asked, blinking at Spock. "Did something happen?"

"No," Spock replied, reassuring him. "There is no problem."

"Oh," Jim said. He shuffled from foot to foot and scratched his cheek. The lights were off, which was odd considering it was only just past eight. "Did you want something?"

"Yes. I was hoping to—" Spock cut himself off abruptly as he realized his mistake. "I apologize. I had forgotten you are working the night shift tonight. Please excuse me."

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Spock was the one who had scheduled him for tonight. There really was no excuse as to why he had forgotten. Jim clearly just wanted to sleep before he stayed up the whole night _and_ had his normal shift tomorrow. Spock should have thought about that as opposed to only thinking about what he wanted. Some friend he was.

As he turned to leave, Jim opened the door wider and grabbed his arm. "Wait a second," Jim said, quickly. Spock looked back at Jim, unsure what he wanted but preparing himself to be told off. "Do you want to come in?" When Spock hesitated, Jim continued, "I mean, you don't have to, obviously, but I thought you wanted something?"

"I thought we might play chess," Spock said, slowly. "However I understand that you—"

"Chess," Jim repeated, interrupting him. He grinned and tightened his grip on Spock's arm. "Chess sounds _great_." Jim let his arm drop and gestured briefly to his boxers and lack of shirt. "Just let me get dressed."

Spock's eyes followed the movement of Jim's hand before snapping back to his face. "Of course," he replied. "I will wait out here."

"Yeah," Jim said, grin widening. "You do that."

Spock waited for no more than two minutes while Jim put on more appropriate clothing. It was surprising that Jim slept in boxer shorts. Vulcans either wore a full set of the Vulcan equivalent of pajamas to bed, or else they slept naked. It was illogical to do things half-way.

"Okay, I'm ready," Jim stated as he walked out of his room, now wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "Let's go."

They walked to the nearest recreation room, which was smaller than the ones Jim usually preferred. However it _did_ have a chess set, which was all that they required for the time being. Spock set up the pieces when Jim sat down, putting his elbows on the table and holding his head up with his hands.

"We haven't played in a while," Jim stated.

"I know," Spock said.

"Actually, it feels like I haven't seen you in forever," Jim said.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I saw you this afternoon."

"Well, _yeah_ ," Jim said, rolling his eyes. "But I mean like this."

"Yes, it has been a few days since we last saw each other outside of work," Spock said.

"It's nice." Jim gestured between them, back and forth twice. "Doing this."

"Yes," Spock agreed. "It is." He sat down and began inspecting the board. "I believe it is your turn to go first."

"All right. But don't blame me when you lose horribly."

"Since I will not lose, you do not need to be concerned."   
They began playing, making general comments as they each moved their respective pieces. Spock realized, over the course of the game, that there were a lot of aspects of Jim's 's character he had missed. Jim was amusing and had no problem making joking remarks about himself as well as the people he was with. It was a relief to be able to not worry about how he acted or what he said. Whereas with most people Spock would have to explain himself or leave them all confused, Jim never misunderstood him. Besides that, Jim was always happy to see him, unlike many of the crew members who seemed to consider Spock a harbinger of doom. Plus, Jim treated him as an equal, which was refreshing given the attitudes of everyone else on board the Enterprise.

When Jim moved his queen to block the check Spock had put him in, Spock was able to checkmate him in three more moves thanks to clever use of a knight and the protection of his own king by a rook. They had both gotten used to winning and losing over the past few games. Jim sighed heavily as he tipped over his king.

"I stand corrected," Jim said.

"As I said, there was no need for your concern," Spock replied.

Jim leaned back in his chair. "But I'm always concerned about you."

"There is not always a need for you to be," Spock said, aware the conversation had taken an odd turn but unsure how to respond.

"You should just get used to it now," Jim said. "I'm sensing that concern for you is going to be this constant annoyance in my life."

"At least I do not hang indiscriminately off of collapsing walls," Spock retorted. "Perhaps then there would be an actual need for your concern."

"Maybe. But then again the idea of you hanging off of anything…" Jim trailed off, laughing.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I fail to see the humor in that situation."

"Ah, that's okay," Jim replied, running a hand through his hair. "That just makes it funnier."

Spock paused, not wanting to ruin Jim's good mood but also remembering something he had wanted to tell him. "I was speaking with Mr. Chekov two days ago." Jim nodded, waving a hand at him to continue. "He informed me that he supported your decision to remove Mr. Wilshaw from the Enterprise."

Jim shrugged. "Well, of course he does. He's not an idiot, is he?" Spock remained silent, assuming this was a rhetorical question. "I work the closest with the people I trust the most, and the people on the bridge are who I spend all day with. He spread his hands. "Obviously I'm not going to surround myself with racist assholes."

"True," Spock said. It made sense, considering how open-minded Jim was about life in general.

"Besides, I think Chekov gets it," Jim said. Spock looked at him curiously. "Well, I mean, he's always really nice to you."

"Mr. Chekov is polite to everyone," Spock pointed out.

"Yeah, I know, but still." Jim looked at Spock, smiling a little. "It's good, not being the bad cop all the time, right?" Spock hesitated but before he could ask, Jim said, "There's a phrase good cop, bad cop, and it means one person is friendly all the time while the other's always all terrifying. It kind of works."

"Yes," Spock said, raising an eyebrow at Jim's crude but insightful explanation. "It does."

"All right," Jim said. "If I don't leave now I won't have enough time to eat and change."

Spock glanced at the time on the wall, surprised how late it had gotten while he had been distracted. He stood up and followed Jim out of the recreation room and back down the corridor to Jim's quarters. When they got there, Jim turned around and gave Spock a light punch in the shoulder.

"Thanks for asking me out," Jim said. He blinked and quickly added, "For chess, I mean. You know, to hang out. Um."

 

Even though he didn't understand Jim's confusion, Spock couldn't help the small smile that darted across his face. "I will see you in the morning, Jim."

"Yeah." Jim raised his hand, awkwardly, and then crossed his arms. "See you later."

Spock returned to his own quarters feeling much more relaxed and happier than he had in days. He would need to make a habit of spending time with Jim at least two or three times a week. Surely Uhura would understand that everyone wanted to spend time with their friends. It would have no impact on the time he spent with her. Spock just hoped she wouldn't get upset when he told her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point I should make a masterpost to collect everything, but for the time being here's [not sleeping](http://not-sleeping.deviantart.com/)'s COMPLETELY AWESOMESAUCE second fanart. [Check it out, people!](http://not-sleeping.deviantart.com/art/Fanart-Die-in-fire-Scotty-130282173) Give her some love for awesome chibi!Spock. ♥


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have excuses for why it's been almost a month with no new Apogee, but I realize no one really cares about my excuses. Just know they're good ones. And here's some news: 10's a multi-parter, so I'll be posting up the rest of it when it's finished. Then it's Othersides 2, and then I'm taking a break to work solely on the Apogee prequel for startrekbigbang b/c that's due by September 15th. And if I don't work on it now, it's not getting done. Which would be sad for you guys, really, take my word on this. You want this prequel. BAD.
> 
> I HOPE THE FANGIRLISH PARTS MAKE UP FOR THE WAIT. Mission chapters suck. This was an accident--and I mean that. This wasn't supposed to go down this way at all. Clearly arguing with myself only causes hassle for us all. Also, the next part is only partly written. Sorry. I blame many people for how long this took me to get out, but mostly the following: mariole for her reminder that shuttlecrafts existed and could be used to rescue them (which made me have to brainstorm with siriuslyyellow interesting ways of taking the shuttlecrafts out of the picture), rdallyn for getting me to promise her K/S cuddling for warmth (yeah, I knew I was going to put it in anyway, but then I just had to make it REALLY good and not horribly stereotypical), and the LJ user WHOSE SCREENNAME I'VE FORGOTTEN (so please remind me if it's you) for her awesome comments on my original novel (which caused me to work/think about that for a while--especially the autistic!K thing--WHAT'S YOUR SCREENNAME I FORGOT IT FROM FAIL), and the creative teams doing SPN, SGA, and Farscape (which fueled my non-ST fandom interests--NO SPOILERS PLEASE!!) EDIT: I just realized this part was over 10,000 words long. WHY DO I DO THESE THINGS TO MYSELF?! *headdesk*

There were two things Jim lay awake thinking about, and both of them were equally terrifying. Sometimes a few other thoughts kept him up, but these were the two big ones, the ones that had him constantly on edge and uncertain. The first had plagued him ever since he became Captain, but the second was new. There were plenty of other differences between the two. The first was a reasonable worry, something that anyone in his position should be concerned about. The second was ludicrous, something he was embarrassed for even thinking about. The first was something he felt justified for considering, and the second was something that made him feel like a fool.

His first concern was that he would get his crew killed. The horrifying fact was that this was an actual possibility. Their lives were in his hands, not only during missions, but during every second of every day. He had complete control over everything on the Enterprise, and that meant one wrong order from him could have devastating consequences. Sure, the rational part of his brain argued with him that there were always other factors involved. Sometimes events were out of his control and, besides, these were people who had enlisted knowing the dangers they faced. No one had sugar-coated it for them along the way. No one had held their hands as they went through the Academy's toughest courses and learned how to wage war and survive in unlivable conditions. They were doing amazing things out here every day, but there was always that sense of danger. For Jim, at least, there was always that worry that something would happen, that something would go wrong. A mission gone bad was the most obvious. Missions never went the way they were supposed to, and sometimes picking out the security officers who went with a landing party felt like choosing who was about to die. But there were so many other ways someone could die. Disease, accident, equipment malfunction, improper use of equipment, failure of life support systems, attacked by an enemy, friendly fire, being unfamiliar with the surroundings of a new planet or area of the ship, poisoned by some type of flower on a new planet, sheer inattentiveness—the list goes on. Some days it felt like every member of his crew had a date over their heads, and all Jim could do was give them the best possible lives before that day came.

His second concern was a joke compared with his first. But he could think, to himself at least, that he was worried about this thing with Spock. Well, who wouldn't be? He had never been in love before. The thought kept on coming back to him, but it was true. He had no idea what he was supposed to do, or if he was supposed to do anything at all. Could he just do nothing and hope that Spock eventually got it? That seemed a bit… optimistic. Spock was known for not understanding what people didn't say outright to him. But how was Jim supposed to come out and say something like that when he wasn't even sure that it was true? He was pretty sure that it was true, though. He'd never thought like this about anyone else. If it wasn't love, then it was some kind of creepy weird obsession, and Jim would much rather call it love. Shit, maybe love really _was_ a creepy weird obsession and everyone just pretended otherwise. But it didn't matter. The point was, he was most likely in love with Spock, who was dating Uhura, who was the exact opposite of him in lots of ways, not the least of which being she had a vagina. There wasn't a whole lot Jim could do about not having a vagina. And honestly, he was really rather attached to his penis. So if Spock was going to not even look twice at him because of that, Jim would deal with it. But maybe Spock wouldn't care that Jim was a guy, and if that was the case then all Jim had to do was get up the courage to actually tell Spock how he felt. But if he did that, then Spock might completely reject him, maybe even using logic to do so. Jim wasn't sure he could handle listening to Spock explain to him why Jim's love was illogical and a waste of their time and energy which could be better used elsewhere, perhaps in finishing those reports that Jim had forgotten about last week. If Spock said something like that to him, Jim wasn't sure what he would do. He might cry.

When Jim was willing to be honest, he knew the two worries were connected into a third problem that he didn't even want to consider. But why avoid it? Better to suck it up and think about it. Spock could die. There, he'd thought it. Spock could die any day, in any number of ways, and chances were high that Jim wouldn't be able to do a damn thing to save him. Sure, the same could be said for any of his crew. Jim couldn't imagine any of the officers on his bridge dying, couldn't imagine going to work and just not seeing them there. The thought of losing McCoy, though, was on another level entirely—an earth-shattering, reality-altering, soul-searing level. Jim couldn't imagine life without McCoy. He'd lived for twenty-two years before he'd ever met the man, and now he couldn't even remember what it was like to not know that he could go to McCoy with any problem and his best friend would help him, even if it was by punching him in the stomach or getting him drunk.

It was a different situation with Spock. He didn't have that history. He wasn't sure how Spock would react to anything he did or said, and he often felt like a complete jackass when faced with Spock's logic and superiority. He didn't know what Spock was thinking, didn't know what he was feeling, and a whole lot of the time he couldn't even tell if Spock was really listening or if he was just agreeing to shut Jim up. Still… still. There was this space in his life now and if Spock was gone, it would just be empty. It would just be this hole in his life. He'd learn to move around it, to avoid it, to steer people clear of it so that they all could get by, but he'd never be able to fill it or forget about it. It was stupid, it was clichéd, but he couldn't think of another way to describe it. Spock wasn't like McCoy—he wasn't as important. Weird, but true. Jim had known Spock for two and a half months. He wasn't even entirely sure he was in love yet. He'd miss Spock if he was gone. No, 'miss' wasn't the right word. But there wasn't a word for what he'd feel if Spock died. He'd feel like he missed out on a life he never got the chance to have. He'd feel like he'd never find someone else who would fit with him the way Spock did. Was there a word for something like that?

So, maybe the difference between Spock and McCoy was a simple one. If McCoy died, Jim would die too. Life would continue on, other people would be able to go on with their own hopes and dreams and fears and goals, but Jim would be dead. If Spock died… well, Jim would live through it. But all other life would be dead, too. Jim would just exist in this barren world, living without feeling anything or interacting with anyone because, once Spock was gone, there would be nothing left. Before he had met Spock, Jim hadn't even cared that there was a world. McCoy might be vital to Jim's survival, but Spock gave the world meaning. Jim didn't care that it was cheesy. In two and a half months, Spock had given him the world. If he died, the world would go with him.

So that was what kept Jim up some nights, when he just couldn't think about anything else. People could die while he was in charge of their well-being, and he was probably in love with Spock, and Spock was one of those people who could die. His father's death, all those other deaths he'd lived through on Earth, the deaths of everyone on Vulcan—all of those paled to the one thought that, at any given moment, Spock could die.

And Jim would never have told him that, when he couldn't sleep, he could admit that he was equally terrified that his crew would die and that he was in love, and that the worst thing of all was a combination of the two. If Spock died right now, he would never know that Jim had loved him, fiercely, hesitantly, awkwardly, without even being sure that it was love.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Surprisingly, the world hadn't ended after Jim came out to McCoy. Actually, maybe 'came out' was the wrong term since it implied… well, not what Jim wanted it to imply. The point was, five days had passed and nothing had happened. McCoy hadn't freaked out at Jim or told anyone else—not that McCoy gossiping was likely under any circumstances, but surely the Captain's big gay crush on his First Officer merited _some_ whispered comments. Jim was sure he would have heard something if anyone else knew, but there had been nothing, and he felt like a terrible human being for even thinking that McCoy would say anything. Also extremely grateful for McCoy's superior attitude and general condescension towards everyone in his vicinity, but still terrible.

They had even passed by each other and nothing had happened. Jim had been walking with McCoy to the mess hall and they had passed by Spock. McCoy acted completely normal. Jim had been floored. If it was him, he was sure he'd have done _something_ suspicious. But McCoy had just nodded at Spock like he always did and that had been that. Of course, after Spock had left, Jim had endured five minutes of mocking that ranged from McCoy fluttering his eyelids to speaking in an incredibly high-pitched voice. But Jim could understand that. He'd do the same thing, if their positions were switched. The point was, McCoy had kept his cool in front of Spock, and Jim couldn't have been more relieved about it.

Everything else was going smoothly. They had stumbled across a planet during their star-charting, and of course no one had ever found it before them. Discovering new planets excited Jim—he felt important, like without his crew the planet wouldn't even exist. Silly to think that way, but he couldn't help it. They were doing work that would never be duplicated. No one else would ever be the first person to find and explore this part of the universe. This section of space would never again be untouched by the Federation. Jim had heard stories that this got old after a while, that people got used to exploring and found it became routine. But he was two and a half months into his Captaincy and it was still new. Besides, Jim thought he could live to be a thousand and he'd never tire of being with the first people to find a planet, discovering a whole world of life that had never been seen before, and doing it while sitting in his chair surrounded by people he loved.

Jim had ordered some scans of the planet done—the routine check for conditions on the surface and whether or not it would be possible to send a landing party down to investigate and collect samples for study. He was sitting in his chair, spinning idly around, when the results of the first round of scans were ready.

"Captain," Spock said. Jim spun around to face him, leaning eagerly forward, fingers tapping impatiently against the armrests on his chair. "This planet has an atmosphere which is able to create and maintain life."

" _Yes_ ," Jim said, pumping a fist in the air. "Do the next round of scans and let me know if there's any reason we shouldn't beam down a landing party."

Spock hesitated. "There is one—"

"Captain," Uhura interrupted. Her tone was sharp enough that Jim swiveled to look at her. "Private message from Admiral Pike. He says it's urgent."

Jim stood up and walked to the lift. "I'll take it in my room. Spock, work on the scans. Sulu, keep this orbit for now."

"Yes, sir," Spock and Sulu replied, in unison.

Jim got to his quarters in two minutes, not willing to keep Pike waiting any longer than necessary. On his way there, all Jim could do was wonder exactly what Pike wanted. It was most likely one of two things—a new mission or more news about whatever secretive thing was going down on New Vulcan. Either way, the only reason Pike would make it a private message would be if it was going to really piss Jim off. Anything else wouldn't be a problem to share with his crew, especially since they'd find out about it anyway. That was the thing with working on the bridge—you always knew everything important that was going on before anyone else on the ship did. Jim had no delusions about keeping anything secret from them. So if this was something that was going to cause him grief, it might be better to hear it in private first so he could figure out how best to handle the situation.

Once in his room, Jim flicked on his desk communicator and said, "Bridge, this is the Captain. Put Admiral Pike's call through."

"One moment," Uhura said.

Only a few seconds later, Pike's voice came out of the intercom. "Captain Kirk, are you there?"

"Yeah, and I'm alone," Jim replied. "What's with all the secrecy? I feel like I'm undercover."

Pike chuckled. "You'd be shit at undercover operations and you know it."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Sure, okay, you got me alone so you could insult me. That's a great way to waste both of our time."

"All right, fine, I'll skip the small talk," Pike said. "But if you ask me about the weather later, I'm hanging up."

"Noted," Jim said. "Go, would you? I'm on tenterhooks over here."

"You're not going to like this," Pike said, slowly.

"No shit." Jim sighed. "Just tell me."

"The situation on New Vulcan is getting worse." Pike cleared his throat. "The Vulcans have asked the Romulans for a formal apology." Jim groaned. "Exactly. The Romulans told the Vulcans they weren't responsible for Nero's actions and they have no intention of trying to make peace."

"I could have told them that," Jim said.

Pike laughed. "Yeah, you and everyone else. The Federation has been able to stay out of it for now, but everyone knows what's going to happen."

"I don't follow," Jim stated.

"You know we can't take a stand against the Romulans. They say Nero's actions aren't on their heads, but they also say they're not going to take a stand against what he did. The Vulcans aren't going to accept that and they want the Federation to back them up."

"Okay?" Jim waited for the point, hoping he wasn't missing something obvious.

"The Federation isn't going to start a war over an apology," Pike said. "And it doesn't look like the Romulans or the Vulcans are going to back down."

"So what are you saying?" Jim asked, sitting up straighter. "How bad is this going to get?"

Pike hesitated. "How has Spock been acting?"

Jim blinked. "Okay, now I _really_ don't follow you."

"Humor me, would you?" Pike asked.

Jim frowned. "He's been performing admirably, as always. But he's still grieving over the death of his mother and the loss of Vulcan. And who could blame him?"

"Of course," Pike allowed. "But…"

Jim's eyes narrowed. "But _what_?"

"Where are his loyalties?" Pike's voice was monotone, maybe even calming. Jim was immediately offended.

" _Excuse_ me?" Jim asked, voice rising.

Pike sighed. "Listen, Jim, it's vital that we know now what he'll do."

"What he'll do for _what_?"

"If it comes down to it," Pike said.

"Okay, see, here's the thing, _sir_ ," Jim said, scowling. "I don't like the implications you're throwing around and I don't get whatever the heck it is you're trying to not tell me. Spock's my First Officer. I trust him with my life."

"Do you?" Pike asked, so quickly that Jim blinked.

"Yes," Jim stated, firmly. "As a matter of fact, I do."

"I hope that's true," Pike said. "Because I think you'll have to."

"I already have," Jim said. "So how's the weather?" He switched the communicator off before the conversation could go any further.

The silence on the other end of the line was somehow even worse than when Pike had been talking. Jim didn't understand whatever it was Pike had been trying to tell him, and he knew he was only going to figure it out at the worst possible moment, when it would be too late to try and fix anything. It was easy to understand the Vulcans' need for an apology and the Romulans' refusal. Jim also understood why the Federation wanted to stay out of it. But what did they think was going to happen? Vulcans were a peaceful people. They needed to make sense of the tragedy, but they wouldn't look to violence for the answer. Would they? What else could they be planning to do against the Romulans? _Talk_ them into apologizing?

Jim walked back to the bridge like he was walking to the electric chair. How was he supposed to explain to Spock what Pike had implied? What the hell _had_ Pike implied, anyway? Was Jim supposed to believe that Spock was going to secretly plot against him? The idea was laughable. But why else would Pike ask where Spock's loyalties were? Jim knew Spock was loyal to him and to the crew on the Enterprise. There was no way of explaining that to Pike, who hadn't been on board all this time and so hadn't had the chance to see Spock doing his job. Jim was sure he hadn't convinced Pike, but that was the least of his troubles right now.

He wasn't willing to lie to Spock. Sure, his huge mancrush factored into that, but mainly Jim honestly _did_ trust Spock with his life and relied on him as an efficient First Officer. Keeping secrets from Spock would put a barrier between them that Jim didn't want to be there. He'd have to find a way to tell Spock that the Federation was looking at him as a possible traitor, not because of anything he did, but because of his Vulcan heritage. It didn't matter that he was also half-human and, even disregarding his heritage entirely, had taken an oath to serve the Federation. In the end, it seemed like everyone but Jim was unable to accept that Spock could be Vulcan _and_ human, logical _and_ emotional, an officer _and_ a friend. Jim couldn't even imagine how Spock would react to the news that, after all of his attempts at understanding and embracing human culture, he was being judged because of one aspect of himself that he could never change. How was Jim supposed to bring that up _now_ , after everything he'd said about accepting Spock for who he was? How could he say to Spock that, despite his perfect record and constant commitment to his job, Starfleet thought he might betray the people he worked with because of his green blood, pointed ears, and never-ending logic? He felt like a fraud.

When Jim got back to the bridge, Spock immediately said, "All scans of the planet are done, Captain."

Jim walked over to Spock, noticing as he got closer a few of the the small things he always noticed about Spock. How he always sat straight in his chair, but somehow got even straighter when Jim came up to him, drawing himself up as if he had to be on his best behavior in front of the Captain. Sometimes Jim just wanted to shake him and shout at him that Jim wouldn't care if he came to work in his pajamas and slouched all day long. Then there was this look on his face. It was hard to define, but sometimes Jim could just tell that Spock was excited or nervous or worried or bored simply from the slant of his mouth or the way his eyes moved. Right now Jim knew Spock wasn't quite sure how Jim would react to the findings. He was trying to find the best way to tell Jim, and the fact that Spock unintentionally worried about how Jim would react to facts that were entirely out of anyone's control was really, _really_ cute. There was also this way Spock had of spinning in his chair. It was so controlled. Everyone else, when they spun around, either put their feet on the floor to stop or else kept a hand on their workstation to measure just how far they wanted to turn. Spock was the only one who turned just how much he wanted to every single time, without ever using his feet or hands to stop. Given Jim's personal experience with spinning around in chairs, he knew just how great a feat this was. When Jim got close enough, he knew Spock would lean backwards to allow Jim to see the screen better, but the way he leaned was always further into Jim's personal space, sometimes far enough that Jim could feel the pressure of Spock's shoulder or back against his chest. It was enough to make Jim go crazy, but he loved it. He fucking loved it.

"So what's up?" Jim asked, standing behind Spock. He had a sudden, surprisingly unexpected, urge to grab Spock and hold him and tell him that Jim didn't care that he was Vulcan and he didn't think it was a bad thing and he didn't think he was a traitor and he was pissed off and upset that other people couldn't see what he saw.

"There is definitely life on this planet. The atmosphere is not harmful to us. We will be able to breathe normally on the surface," Spock said.

Jim waited a moment. "And what else?"

"The life is most likely not humanoid," Spock explained. "There were no traces of any type of towns or villages."

Jim paused, then sighed. "What is it, Spock? Just tell me."

"Eighty-nine point five three two percent of the planet is covered in ice. The rest of the planet is a mixture of mountainous regions and valleys." When Jim stared at him in horror, Spock raised an eyebrow. "I did attempt to tell you earlier, Captain."

Jim groaned. "You _know_ how I feel about ice planets."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The briefing for the mission didn't take long at all. Jim put together a team for a scientific exploration of the planet, which was the usual procedure when they discovered any new planets. Spock paid close attention even though he knew how these missions went from several other similar missions he had been on. When the briefing was over, they were given one hour to prepare. Spock went to his quarters, planning on putting on his warmest clothes because, even though he trusted they would be able to beam up if they needed to, it never hurt to be prepared for the worst case scenario.

When he got to his quarters, however, Uhura was waiting outside his door with a determined expression. She smiled when she saw him, and Spock realized he'd have to talk to her even though all he wanted to do was prepare for the mission. He had resolved to be nicer to her, after all. If he was going to try harder for their relationship to work, he would need to do so all the time, not only when it was convenient for him.

"Lieutenant Uhura," Spock greeted.

"Spock," Uhura said. "I heard you were part of the landing party."

"Yes," Spock replied. "I must report to the transporter room in fifty-seven minutes and twenty-three seconds."

"All right," Uhura replied. "This won't take long. I just wanted to let you know that I thought we could have dinner tomorrow night. I'm off for once, and I saw you were too."

Spock stiffened, knowing a fight was coming and unable to avoid it. "Although I would like to have dinner with you, I already planned to have dinner with Captain Kirk tomorrow night."

Uhura's eyebrows furrowed. "Well, can't you just cancel? We're never both off during dinner. Kirk'll understand."

"Usually either the Captain or I is working during dinner," Spock replied. "Since we are both off for the same hour, we agreed to have dinner. I am more than willing to have dinner with you the next time we both—"

"That's _bullshit_!" Uhura shouted, throwing one hand up in the air. "Spock, we're dating, okay? _Dating_. We should have dinner when we can."

"I agree," Spock said. "However, I already told the Captain I would have dinner with him."

"So tell him you can't," Uhura said. "I know you want to keep your word when you give it, and I find that very admirable. I really do. But this isn't a big deal, right? It's not like you and Kirk are going to be upset if you don't have dinner together." Uhura paused. "Are you?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Are you going to be upset if you don't have dinner with Kirk tomorrow?" Uhura asked.

Spock hesitated. "Yes," he answered. "I enjoy spending time with Captain Kirk. Reneging on my promise to him is not something I would enjoy under any circumstances."

Uhura licked her lips. "Is there something going on between you two?"

"The Captain and I are friends," Spock replied. He knew she must be implying something else, but he had no way of guessing what she could mean unless she was willing to be clear.

"Yeah, I _know_ , but…" Uhura sighed. "Never mind. I guess we'll just have to have dinner another time. Since you're busy. With Kirk."

"Yes," Spock agreed. "I believe it is appropriate to inform you that I intend to continue spending a portion of my free time with Captain Kirk."

"Oh, really?" Uhura said, sarcasm dripping off her voice. "That's fucking _news_ to _me_."

"Was that comment intended to be sarcastic?" Spock asked, wanting to be sure before he responded.

"Yeah," Uhura answered. "It was."

"Then you are already aware that I want to maintain my friendship with Captain Kirk," Spock stated.

Uhura ran a hand over her eyes and groaned. "Yes, Spock, I get it." She let her hand drop and shrugged. "I'm just wondering if _you_ get it, too."

Spock frowned slightly. "I do not understand your implication."

"That's the whole problem," Uhura replied, also frowning.

"I do not wish to interrupt you," Spock started. "However, I must prepare for the mission."

"Of course," Uhura said, nodding. "Make sure you wear something warm."

"Thank you. I intend to do so. I will continue this discussion with you once I return from the mission," Spock said.

Uhura waved a hand. "It doesn't really matter."

"It appears as though whatever you were implying matters strongly to you," Spock said.

"Well," Uhura said, then paused. "If you don't know, then it really doesn't matter at all." She stepped forward and hugged Spock, who patted her back awkwardly. "Be safe. I'll see you when you get back."

Spock went into his quarters when Uhura left, unsure what she had been attempting to tell him and unhappy that she would be so secretive and then blame him for it. If she would just tell him whatever it was that was bothering her, he could find a way to reassure her. Otherwise, he was left with yet another example of how humans were confusing, irrational creatures.

After putting on his warmest clothing, Spock collected his communicator, phaser, and tricorder. He went directly to the transporter room where Jim, Sulu, Chekov, and two security officers were already waiting. Scotty was standing by the controls, scanning the planet for a good location to beam them down.

"Last one here, hm?" Jim asked, grinning to show he was only joking. "What, you got someplace else to be?"

"I had to take extra time to prepare myself for your behavior once we reach the surface," Spock replied.

Jim snorted. "My behavior? And what kind of behavior is that?"

"It _is_ an ice planet, Captain," Spock said in a monotone.

"Oh, sure, pick on me in my time of need," Jim said. "That'll get you in good with me."

"It will?" Scotty asked, hopefully.

"No," Jim stated. "Are we ready to go or not?"

"I'm ready," Sulu said.

"Ready," Chekov echoed. "And I'd like to say that I don't particularly like ice planets either. They're too cold."

"I am ready," Spock said, ignoring Chekov's comment.

Jim looked at the security officers, who both nodded, and then he pointed at Scotty. "This is on you. If we land in the middle of some huge field of ice, I'm going to be very unhappy."

"I'll do my best, sir," Scotty said. "But I'd like to take this opportunity to remind you that the scanners are not always a hundred percent accurate and that firing people based on personal grievances is against Federation rules."

"Very. Unhappy." Jim jabbed his finger at Scotty with each word.

"Yes, sir," Scotty said, sighing.

Spock walked onto the transporter, waiting patiently for the others to join him. Once everyone was in position, Jim turned to Spock and said, "I really don't like ice planets."

"I know," Spock replied.

"It's all your fault," Jim said, frowning.

"I accept full responsibility for my actions," Spock replied.

"All right, just so long as we're clear. Beam us down, Scotty," Jim said.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This planet was too fucking cold. It was really, _really_ cold. Even for an ice planet. Jim was dealing with it because he was the Captain and he had to deal with it. If he freaked out, everyone else would freak out, and then they'd all be freaking out and no one would do their job. That was the last thing he needed right now. What he needed was for everyone to work so efficiently and quickly that they were able to beam back up sooner than humanly possible.

The landscape was just as dreary as Delta Vega had been, maybe even worse. Ice covered every speck of land Jim could see in every direction. It was a field of ice, solid and slippery, shining in the light of this planet's small sun. There were several mountain ranges in all directions, but they were all far enough away that it would be a trial to get to any of them. It was actually a trial to get _anywhere_ , even a few feet away to talk to someone, because of how slippery the ice was. Usually, living creatures would travel over the ice fairly often, which would wear it down and make it a bit easier to walk on, but there had been no signs of living creatures yet and the ice seemed completely untouched. Possibly the worst aspect of this world was the wind, which was always blowing and ranged in strength from so loud and fast he couldn't hear someone standing five feet away from him to so loud and fast he had to struggle to stay standing upright. It would be difficult to do much of anything in these conditions, but Jim was determined to get the samples they needed and get off of this planet before he froze his balls off. Literally.

They had started off by digging small holes in the ice to get to the ground underneath, which would allow them access to the various levels of ice and the dirt below it. Chekov was collecting samples of rocks and dirt and ice. Sulu was taking readings of everything in sight, which was mostly ice but he stumbled across the occasional rock. Spock was doing a few simple experiments with how thick the ice was, how hard the rocks were, and so on. That was all they could do—test the ice and rocks. Jim felt like he was in the Academy's beginner ecology course. The security guards were patrolling the area they had beamed down to which, to no one's surprise, was also covered in ice. Jim was overseeing the situation, which consisted of him encouraging everyone to hurry up by shouting that he was cold and that they could get back on the ship faster if they would just move it along. They had all stayed in the same twenty foot radius because otherwise, there was no guarantee they could talk to each other over the wind.

"Captain, I found something odd," Chekov said. Jim turned around and walked over to him, looking at the lump of rock he was holding. "The readings are off the scale for this."

"Spock," Jim called. "Take a look at this." Spock was there in a few seconds, standing at Jim's side and taking the rock from Chekov's hand. After several scans and a few interested eyebrow raises, Jim poked Spock in the shoulder and gestured at the rock. "So?"

"It appears this rock is giving off large amounts of non-harmful radiation of a type I have never encountered," Spock explained. "I am unsure what the effects of long-term exposure to this would be, however this might be usable as an energy source."

Jim nodded. "Sounds good. We can send some up to the ship for further tests." Jim motioned to the security officers. "Collect some samples of this rock and beam back up to deliver it to McCoy, Scotty, and the science lab." He turned back to Spock and continued, "Bones can see if it's harmful while Scotty and the science officers on duty check out the other properties."

It was the only course of action that made any sense. They still had plenty to explore down here, and if these rocks really were a great find, it would be better to know as soon as possible so he could plan for more time collecting and testing them. Besides, it was freezing and Jim had no intention of staying on this planet for longer than necessary. The more multitasking that was going on, the better.

When Chekov and Sulu had helped the two security officers to gather twenty samples of the rocks, Jim flipped open his communicator and said, "Enterprise, this is Captain Kirk. We're beaming up Officers Holm and Farro with a few rock samples."

"Aye, Captain," Scotty said. "Ready to beam them aboard."

Jim looked over at the officers and waited until they were in place, holding the bags of rocks. All this procedure for a simple thing. Sometimes Jim didn't understand why they had to be so formal all the time, so bound by the rules the Federation had set up. There were times when it made sense, like during war or peace negotiations or meeting new races for the first time. But when it was only a group of people who worked together all the time, Jim didn't see the need to go through all this hassle.

"They're ready," Jim said. "Beam them up." As the officers disappeared, Jim heard Scotty muttering to himself and then outright cursing. "What? What is it?"

"The damn transporter's acting up again," Scotty said. "Hold on, let me…"

Jim tapped his foot on the ice, slipped a little, and quickly regained his balance by windmilling his arms a few times. He ignored Spock's amused smirk and focused on hoping the transporter was working. After all, he wasn't willing to hang around and wait without any information about what was going on. If the transporter was breaking down at that very moment, Jim was shortly going to have a lot more to be concerned about than studying some rocks.

"We've beamed the officers aboard, Captain," Scotty said. Jim started to feel relieved before Scotty continued, "But there was a power surge when they got beamed up. It blew a couple of fuses in the system, and I think there might be more serious damage."

Spock, Sulu, and Chekov all moved closer, presumably to spy on Jim's conversation without appearing to do so. Jim sighed. "How serious?"

"Serious enough that I wouldn't want to risk beaming anyone else aboard right now," Scotty replied. 

"What does that mean?" Jim asked, voice low. "Scotty, I'm on an ice planet, okay? An _ice planet_."

"I know."

"You do? Then do you also know my opinion of ice planets?" Jim asked.

"You fear them like a small child is scared of the dark," Scotty answered, so promptly Jim scowled.

" _No_ ," Jim said, huffing. He heard a muffled laugh and glared at Chekov, who looked away innocently. "I'm not _afraid_ of them. I just don't like them."

"If it helps, I meant that in the nicest possible way," Scotty said.

"I'm not planning on being stuck down here," Jim continued, ignoring Scotty's pathetic attempt at keeping his job. He was getting fired. Oh, Scotty was _so_ getting fired for that. "So if you fix the transporter in the next half hour I'll let you keep your job."

"And if it takes me longer than half an hour?"

"Then you're fired," Jim replied.

"Ah," Scotty said. "Right then. So I'll just stop working in half an hour and let somebody else work on it, yeah?"

"I didn't say that," Jim said. "I don't think you should put words into my mouth like that." A loud blast came from the other side of the communicator, and Jim flinched before he held it up to his mouth and said, "Scotty? Scotty, what happened?!"

There was some coughing before Scotty replied, "One of the main circuit boards blew out. I've got to work on this, I'll contact you later."

"All right, but be careful," Jim said. "And don't leave us waiting too long. These blankets aren't going to last us more than ten hours."

"Yes, sir," Scotty said, then he disconnected.

Jim flipped his own communicator shut and knelt down to the bag they had brought, opening it and looking at the blankets. They had brought two heated blankets, which were similar to the ones they had during the mission on Lambda Four, except these had small batteries attached which heated them for five hours. Jim had hoped he wouldn't have to use them, but he packed them just in case because his life was a series of unfortunate accidents. He had learned the hard way to be prepared.

"Well, this is just _typical_ ," Jim muttered. He closed the bag and stood up, unable to control a full body shiver. It was getting colder by the fucking second.

"What?" Sulu asked, glancing at the bag. "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, something's wrong," Jim replied. "We're stuck on an ice planet until the damn transporter's fixed!"

"Oh," Sulu said. "I'd thought maybe the batteries had died or something."

" _Don't say that_ ," Jim hissed, narrowing his eyes. "That's like asking for it to happen."

"Captain," Spock stated. He moved closer to Jim, now standing just inches away, and quietly said, "I believe it would be in our best interests to find some type of shelter to wait in. The closest mountains are to the east. We may be able to find a cave there." Spock pointed eastward, to a range of mountains that did seem larger than some of the others on the horizon.

Jim wanted to respond, but he was suddenly aware of their proximity. It was quite a bit harder to think than it had been a few seconds ago, what with Spock's face inches away from his own and all. This was a great view of Spock's lips and nose and eyebrows. He couldn't help a quick once-over of those features. His eyes did it before he could even think about it. Spock looked at him curiously, but Jim only looked away and nodded. He had to focus on the mission. He couldn't let himself get distracted by every little thing. Not that Spock's face was just some little thing. But Jim wasn't going to let himself get distracted. He was cold and stuck on a damn ice planet. He could inspect Spock's face later when they were warm and back on the Enterprise.

"Sounds good," Jim said, vaguely remembering he should reply. He waved a hand to get Sulu and Chekov's attention. "We're going to make our way to the closest mountains. Spock thinks there might be a cave, and anyway it's probably better for us to be moving than standing around waiting to freeze to death."

A distinct silence fell. "Thanks," Sulu said, monotone. "That was very motivational, Captain."

"I'm not happy with you," Jim said. He started walking towards the mountains, which were probably miles away. Spock fell into step beside him, and Sulu and Chekov were right behind them. "Either of you," he continued, shoving his thumb over his shoulder to indicate both of them. "It's you guys that got us into this."

" _How_?" Chekov asked, offended. "I didn't do _anything_!"

"You navigated our way here," Jim said, firmly. "If you would have plotted a different course, we might never have stumbled across this little gem of a planet."

"I didn't—" Sulu started.

"And _you_ piloted," Jim finished, cutting him off. "So it's your fault that we got here."

"Ah," Sulu said.

"That's ridiculous!" Chekov exclaimed. "It's not like we put this planet here just to make you angry." He paused. "That would have been stupid."

"I won't hear any excuses," Jim said, frowning. "Be a man! Accept that the consequences of your actions have led us all to death by ice planet."

"I'm sorry, sir," Sulu said, sounding fairly serious. "It won't happen again."

"It better not," Jim said. "If you kill me by ice planet _twice_ , you are so getting court-martialed."

"Mr. Spock, are you just going to listen to this?" Chekov asked, gesturing at Jim. "The cold is getting to his brain!"

"No, Mr. Chekov. Captain Kirk is in full control of his mental facilities," Spock replied. "Unfortunately."

Jim grinned at Spock and smacked him in the shoulder. "Just for that, I'm going to make you hold the bag." Jim shrugged off the bag with the blankets and equipment in it and held it out for Spock to take.

"I was going to offer to carry it earlier, but you picked it up before I could," Spock said. He took the bag and slung it around his shoulder. "I am the strongest out of the four of us. It is only logical that I carry our gear, especially taking the conditions of the weather into account."

"That is logic that I can appreciate," Jim said. He slipped a little and Sulu steadied him from behind with one hand on his back. "Thanks. I think I'm going to break my neck before we leave, though."

"Let's hope not," Sulu said. "We don't know when Scotty'll have the transporter running again."

The thought sobered Jim up. "Yeah," he agreed. "Let's just get to the mountains in one piece. We can worry about getting back to the ship once we're there."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Walking to the mountains was more or less disastrous. Spock had only slipped three times thanks to his superior Vulcan reflexes, but the other three men were all well into the double-digits, which included both slight missteps and the increasingly frequent stumbles which ended with one or more of them sprawled on the ground. They were traveling slowly in an effort to prevent these falls, but it didn't seem to matter how slowly they walked. The environment was taking a heavy toll on them regardless. Spock hoped the transporter would be fixed soon. Otherwise they would be stuck walking all the way to the mountains. Then Spock realized they had an alternate way of escaping, and he felt so idiotic for not thinking of it sooner that he almost didn't say anything. One glance over at Jim's shivering form was enough to convince him any embarrassment he'd feel for his mistake would be worth it if they could get off this planet in the next half hour or less.

"Captain," Spock said, placing his hand on Jim's sleeve to get his attention. When Jim looked over, Spock quickly continued, "It would be wise to contact the crew on the Enterprise and order them to send a shuttlecraft to the surface of this planet to facilitate our rescue."

Jim's face lit up. "Spock, you're a genius," he said, teeth chattering a little as he flipped open his communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise."

"Uhura here, sir."

Spock watched as Jim's hands closed around the communicator and brought it closer to his mouth. The wind was beginning to pick up again. Jim probably didn't want his voice to get carried away by it.

"Uhura, hey, patch me through to Scotty, would you?" Jim's voice was loud, but the wind was louder, and Spock was glad that his superior Vulcan hearing allowed him to hear their conversation. Sulu and Chekov were probably wondering what was going on. Spock spared a look behind him, but the two officers were simply huddling together for warmth, which was probably the smartest move since they were stopped. The lack of movement could be dangerous, if they stayed still for too long, but Spock was confident that Jim wouldn't take more than a minute or so before he had ordered them to send a shuttlecraft—which they should have done in the first place, but there would be time for self-recriminations later.

"Uh, I can do that, sir, but I think you should know we've got problems up here," Uhura said, speaking quickly but with obvious unhappiness.

Spock and Jim both stared at the communicator in surprise. "What kind of problems?" Jim asked.

"The transporter wasn't the only system those rocks messed with," Uhura said. "All of the monitors only show static, so we don't have any visuals available. All of the audio and communicators are still working, though."

"Oh, that's all?" Jim asked, relieved.

"No," Uhura replied. Jim's face fell. "None of the doors will open."

Jim blinked. "What do you mean?" Spock understood his confusion, but really, when Uhura had stated that none of the doors would open, she most likely meant that none of the doors would open. Humans had this ridiculous need to ask redundant and useless questions. There were times when it was cute or mildly entertaining, and then there were instances when it was only a waste of the limited time they had available.

"No door on the entire ship will open," Uhura repeated. "Everyone is stuck wherever they were when the energy burst happened. Most people are at their stations, but a lot of officers are in the hallways, rec rooms, mess hall, their quarters, and I think somebody's stuck in the lift, but I can't be sure."

Jim closed his eyes briefly. "Those fucking rocks," he muttered. Spock couldn't have agreed more. "Okay, is anyone hurt?"

"No, sir."

"Is anyone in danger of _getting_ hurt?" Jim asked. Spock approved of the distinction.

"Not that I've heard. There are a few officers who haven't reported in, but everyone's assumption is that they're stuck without communicators someplace," Uhura said. Spock momentarily sympathized with her situation. As the main communications officer, she was currently handling _all_ of the inter-ship discussion that normally could take place simply by traveling from one room to another. "Sir, there's something else."

"Oh, God, _what_?" Jim's voice was a mixture of incredulousness and fear.

"Scotty's stuck in the transporter room. He's talking the officers in engineering through how to fix the transporter, but last I heard he's not sure exactly what the rocks did to it. And since he has to rely on the description other people are giving him for what's wrong, he thinks it may take a while to fix." Uhura was clearly stressed out, and Spock wanted to reassure her that they would all be fine, but he couldn't be sure that was true and, perhaps more importantly, he had other problems at the moment.

"When were you going to tell me all this?" Jim asked, slightly ticked off. "I should've known as soon as this happened."

"I'm sorry, sir, but Scotty thought it would be best not to trouble you with this until we had some good news, and I agreed with him," Uhura explained. "You guys have other problems right now, if I'm not mistaken."

Jim sighed. "Fine. We're making our way to the mountains."

"I know. We're still tracking you guys," Uhura said. There was a moment's pause when Spock realized she had more bad news to give, but Jim was unprepared. "Sir. There's one more thing."

"Oh, you've got to be _shitting me_ ," Jim almost shouted. "What is it?!"

"Doctor McCoy is one of the people we haven't been able to contact," Uhura said. "I think he's stuck in the lift."

Jim sucked in a breath, so quickly it must have hurt. "Which lift? Where? What floor's he on?"

"I'm… not sure," Uhura said, voice filled with anxiety and frustration. "But he's not in any of the rooms or corridors, and no one saw him near his room all day. The only thing we can figure is that he must have been taking the lift somewhere when it stopped."

"But you're not sure," Jim stated.

"No," Uhura answered. "And life support is working fine right now, so even if he _is_ stuck in the lift, it should be fine."

"Yeah. Okay." Jim cleared his throat. "Just keep me up to date about what's going on. Kirk out."

Jim closed his communicator and shoved it back into his pocket. Again Spock was hit with the thought that he wanted to reassure someone, only this time it was Jim who needed the support. He reached out, tentatively, and laid his hand on Jim's shoulder. Jim looked at Spock so quickly he thought something must be wrong, but then he realized this might be the first time he had ever touched Jim, or at least the first time when they weren't in some kind of life-threatening situation. Although, technically speaking they _were_ in a life-threatening situation and Spock didn't know why Jim had to act so surprised. Jim touched him all the time. It wasn't a big deal. Jim shouldn't have looked so shocked.

Spock pulled his hand away, confused about what had just happened but knowing he had Jim's attention, which was the point. "I am confident that no harm will come to Doctor McCoy." Spock expected that to be enough, but Jim was still staring at him so after an awkward few seconds he continued, "He will be as… helpfully insightful as always when we return to the Enterprise."

Jim grinned widely, face lighting up with amusement. "Now you're just being bitchy." Spock's eyebrows rose, but before he could respond Jim's grin softened. "But thanks."

Spock nodded and, feeling uncomfortable and like he should be doing something productive as opposed to standing around trying to figure Jim out, decided to continue walking. He motioned to Sulu and Chekov to follow him, and of course Jim ended up beside him once again. Spock assumed Jim wanted to take the lead, but the wind and his constant slipping meant he was forced to stay with the group. Spock was grateful for it. He had no desire to have to go save Jim from a disaster of his own creation, and anyway they were safer when they stayed together. The mountain was getting closer every minute. They had to keep going.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

By the time they were close enough to the mountain to scan it for caves, Jim was freezing. They had been on the surface for three hours, and almost two and a half hours of that time had been spent walking. Nothing much had happened while they were walking, except his teeth were chattering so much his jaw ached and he kept on slipping on the ice. Sulu and Chekov were doing about the same, but he couldn't tell how Spock was. He knew Spock was cold, but Jim wasn't sure how serious it was considering Spock's higher body temperature and annoying habit of not saying anything when he was uncomfortable or in pain. The plan was to keep an eye on everybody, but Jim knew he was going to have problems just looking after himself if they didn't find some shelter soon.

"Ch-chek-ko-kov," Jim stuttered, his teeth chattering so badly he sounded like one of those ancient techno songs. "T-t-t—" Jim stopped short, shoulders slumping. He gestured at the tricorder slung around Chekov's arm and motioned to the mountain, which was now less than a mile away. "C-c-cave?"

Chekov nodded and turned on the tricorder, scanning for any nearby caves. At least, Jim hoped that was what he was doing. He hopped in place three times to keep warm, but of course then he slipped and Spock's hand darted out, grabbing his forearm before he fell. Jim steadied himself and nodded at Spock, who let go of Jim's arm and started looking around the area. Jim didn't know what he was hoping to see. It had been all ice, all the time the entire way there. If anything suddenly popped out at them, Jim was equally likely to shoot it as he was to welcome it. Okay, so that was a lie. Jim had enough experience with ice planets to know he should always shoot first, especially if it looked like it wanted to eat him. But there had been nothing—no signs of life at all, no footprints or broken ice—and Jim figured Spock was just trying to keep doing his job. Good for him. His review was going to be full of glowing praise, no matter what Pike had been trying to say.

When Chekov gestured with a shaking finger for them to continue moving ahead and to the right, Jim began walking and wondered what was going on with his crew. They hadn't heard from the Enterprise since they'd found out the rocks had caused all sorts of electrical problems throughout the ship. Jim knew the crew was trained for all types of emergencies, but they were inexperienced and no one really expected their own ship to turn against them. Jim hoped they had found some way of opening the doors, because otherwise everyone was relying on whoever happened to be wandering the hallways when the rocks were beamed aboard. He trusted his crew, but Jim wasn't willing to risk the lives of the landing party, his own included, on chance. He'd need to contact the ship and see what was going on once they got someplace warmer. It would be useless to try and talk to anyone now.

After another forty-five minutes of dismal conditions, Jim finally saw the outline of what was probably a cave. He headed towards it, intent on getting there as fast as possible. It was maybe fifty yards away when he heard a very loud, rumbling sort of growl. Jim's eyes widened. Really, he should have seen it coming.

A creature that was about five times as tall as Jim slouched out of the cave, walking on the three legs it had with an unusual gait, moving each one individually. It was covered in white fur and the only other thing Jim noticed right away was that it had a very wide mouth filled with jagged teeth, which he figured he should also have seen coming. Why was it that all of these kinds of monsters or animals or whatever they were had to have scary-looking teeth? He never ran into a monster that had a friendly-looking mouth filled with even and clean teeth. He might write an essay on it.

Then it got worse because the thing's mouth opened wider, the jaw bones somehow disconnecting from each other so that its mouth dropped almost to the ground. Jim took a step back, holding a hand out behind him to stop everyone else from moving. Yeah, they had phasers, but what good were phasers against something like that?

The animal moved towards them, but it moved slowly, hampered by its odd three-legged body structure. Clearly, this was not something used to eating anything that moved. Jim took out his phaser and motioned for Chekov and Spock to go the left while he and Sulu went to the right. He used the silent military hand motions they all had learned to let them know his hopefully quick but effective plan. They would surround it and stun it from all sides. Any one person trying to stop that thing would be suicide. They'd have to work together.

Jim moved to the right, walking slowly, circling around the animal, giving it a wide berth to stay on the safe side. Sulu followed him discreetly, a few feet behind. When they were at an angle Jim thought could work, he held up a fist to get Sulu to stop. Jim saw Chekov and Spock stopped on the other side of the monster, and he gave them a thumbs up. Chekov nodded, and Jim aimed his phaser and counted to three before he fired.

At first it seemed like it was working. The animal wobbled unsteadily and let out a more high-pitched growl. Jim waved his hand in the air to stop them all from firing. He didn't really want to _kill_ it. He only wanted to get it to run away. But as soon as they stopped firing, the animal roared and looked directly at Jim, who lowered his hand too late. The monster started walking his way, and they fired again, but this time the animal only moved faster. Jim started running as best he could away from the thing, but it followed him and he realized he'd never be able to outrun it while he was slipping on the damn ice.

Jim waved Sulu away, but Sulu hesitated. "G-g-g- _go_!" Jim shouted. Sulu half-ran half-slid away, moving towards where Chekov and Spock were. Jim fired his phaser again, but the animal was close enough now that Jim thought he was going to get hit, hard, and there was nothing he could do about it.

From out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw Spock coming, running towards him with an unintentional innate grace no human could achieve in these conditions. Jim looked over just as Spock pushed him away, both hands hitting into Jim with the combined force of his speed and strength. Spock was stronger than he had any right to be even during normal circumstances, and that push sent Jim half-flying half-falling, first through the air and then speeding along on the ice and he couldn't seem to find any way to stop. He laid his hands flat along the ice and tried digging his fingers in, but that just left him with raw, near-bloody fingertips. He couldn't see exactly what was happening. The damn ice had been slippery enough just walking on it, but now it was like he was on a slide that stretched on endlessly for miles in every direction. He was slowing down, but not enough and far too late, and his officers and the monster had disappeared in his confusion.

Jim hoped he wouldn't regret it and shoved his phaser down into the ice, cracking it open. He still slid a few more feet, dragging the phaser with him, but his body jarred with the force of his stop when the phaser finally got caught in the ground. Jim dragged himself to his knees and then to his feet, taking a minute to pull his phaser up. It had dug fairly deep into the ice, but he wasn't willing to leave it behind, especially since he could very well need it in the near future. Jim planted both his feet on either side of the phaser and pulled it, hard, jiggling it around to get it loose. When he managed to release it, he only had it in his hand for a second before he heard a crack. Jim looked down, at the long line the phaser had made, to see clear water underneath it. There was only a second for him to think he was completely fucked before the ice broke, dropping him directly down into the freezing water.

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see, he was shivering and surrounded on all sides by a weird mixture of white and blue. Jim looked up to see only water, and he couldn't tell if that was because he was upside down or because he was so far down that was all he _could_ see. Fear swept over him, but he pushed it aside. There'd be time to freak out later, when he was alive and telling Spock all about this. Oh, God, Spock, that monster had been _right there_ , Spock had gotten hit, there was no way he could've managed to get out of that one. And what about Sulu and Chekov, were they okay, had the monster gone after them too?

Jim's head felt weird—slow, fuzzy, like he couldn't think properly. His eyes burned, his chest hurt, his arms and legs felt heavy and unresponsive. He was floating, sideways maybe, and he couldn't tell where he was supposed to go or what he was supposed to be doing. Something hard and solid banged into his side, and while part of him didn't care and just wanted to sleep, another part was quite sure it was important. The Captain in him wasn't able to let it go, no matter how small a thing it might be, so Jim looked down and saw he still held the phaser in his hand.

Seeing his weapon brought his mind back to the present. He didn't know how long he'd been under for. It couldn't have been too long because he was still alive, but clearly he wasn't thinking properly. He needed to see McCoy. But to see McCoy he needed to get back to the Enterprise, and right now that was impossible because the transporter was broken, and besides all the doors wouldn't open and McCoy might be stuck in the lift so even if he did get back—

No. No. He had to focus, keep his mind clear. Jim grasped the phaser, but in doing so he accidentally pulled the trigger. The beam shot uselessly out into the water, but then Jim realized that might be his only salvation. He pulled the trigger and started aiming in a slow circle around him, eventually hearing what sounded like something dropping through a tunnel. The sound had come from his left, which was weird. He hadn't expected the surface to be to his left. But he went towards the sound anyway, struggling to swim as his limbs felt weighed down. After a few seconds he hit into a solid wall, and a moment of utter and complete confusion occurred. What the fuck was a _wall_ doing in the middle of the ocean, or lake, or whatever this was? And anyway, walls shouldn't be invisible. There was just no need for that kind of thing.

Then Jim lifted the phaser to his left, pointed it directly at the wall, and fired. A hole blast through the wall, and Jim remembered it was the surface and he had to get through it before he couldn't think or breathe at all. His body ached as he pulled himself through the hole, finding nothing but ice to grab onto above ground. His fingernails scrabbled for some kind of purchase and he lifted his head up out of the water, gasping for breath and feeling immediately dizzy and violently ill. Jim managed to claw and pull his way out of the water, even as the ice was re-forming around him. He ended up panting on the ground, lying face up and staring at the sky as his lungs burned and his limbs felt numb.

After two or three minutes, during which time he couldn't think at all, Jim realized he couldn't feel anything and that was probably incredibly bad. He rolled over, struggling to move, and looked up, hoping to see the mountain. It wasn't even on the horizon, so he turned around with his arms and legs still feeling like they weren't even there. When he looked up again, he saw the mountain, but it was farther away than he'd thought it would be. He'd slid too far, and he couldn't even tell where Spock, Chekov, or Sulu were or if any of them were alive or dead.

Jim groaned. This was going to suck. He half-pushed himself to his feet, relying on gravity to take over when he didn't feel strong enough. When he made it up, he began walking towards the mountain, sliding more than he had before because he couldn't feel his legs at all. His clothes felt heavy and they clung to him oddly. Besides that, the water was starting to freeze on his skin, which left him with an odd tingly sensation that sometimes burned. Jim wasn't sure exactly what was wrong with him, but he suspected hypothermia or at least some fancy word that meant 'needs to be warm and far away from ice planets right now'. Maybe instathermotransiceterraia? Regardless, there was only one smart thing to do.

His communicator had gotten soaked in the water, like everything else on him, but it still worked. Jim had heard stories of old machines that actually broke down if they got doused with water. Score one for the twenty-third century. He flipped it open and said, "S-sp-sp-spock-ock, Ch-ch-cheko-kov, S-s-sulu-lu, c-ca-nuh y-you g-g-guysss heeear m-m-m-m-me?" Jim licked his lower lip, hoping to stop his teeth from chattering. It had gotten even worse—his lips and tongue were barely doing what he wanted them to, and he was stumbling over every little sound. Not a surprise, considering, but it was still really not helping.

After a worrying minute of silence, during which Jim attempted to repeat himself four times, Sulu said, "Yes, Captain, we're here."

Jim closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. Sulu's voice was steady, which meant he must be warmer than he had been. "G-g-g-goo-duh," he said. "Ev-ev-every-ry on-nuh-suh oook-k-kay-y?"

"Chekov and I are in the cave. Spock went to look for you and ordered us to stay put. We turned on one of the blankets, sir, hope you don't mind," Sulu said, sounding ready to be chastised.

"F-f-f-fi-nuh," Jim said. He growled into the communicator out of frustration and hoped Sulu wouldn't take it the wrong way. "M-m-mon-nuh-s-s-st-stuuuh?"

"We killed it," Sulu said. "Set phasers on their highest power level to finish it off. Spock got hit, but he said he was fine. I offered to go out to look for you instead of him, but he said he'd do it."

"He was really adamant about it," Chekov interrupted. "Said it was his job to look for you. Sir."

Jim groaned. Now he had images in his head of Spock bleeding and half-dead running around looking for him. Great. "T-t-t-t-t-t-t—" Jim accidentally bit his tongue and cried out, leaving his mouth slightly open.

"Spock's tracking your movement and body heat with a tricorder," Sulu said. "He checked in with us about five minutes ago and said he was getting close."

"K-k-k-k," Jim said. He hoped they'd understand he meant he was hanging up. It was pointless to continue that conversation right now, he figured as he flipped the communicator shut. It would have to wait until he could at least form words without stuttering so much.

So Spock was coming to save him and Jim couldn't even savor it how he wanted to because he was unable to think past how cold he was. This was a new level of cold. This was cold unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. It was so cold parts of him felt numb or warm, which he knew must be a really bad sign. But he knew all he could do was keep walking and hope Spock got to him soon. So he kept going in the direction of the mountains, sliding along and hoping Spock would get there before his fingers fell off.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spock had never been more worried in his life. Sure, there had been other times when something horrible happened and it was up to him to save whoever was involved, most notably the incident with his family and the Vulcan council members, yet it had never been this type of long, drawn-out situation that felt like every second was another second he couldn't afford to lose. Once Sulu had contacted him and told him that Jim sounded "not good," Spock began imagining all sorts of wild scenarios about what had happened. What it came down to, though, was that he had pushed Jim too hard, and the stupid ice had added to his original force and Jim had only gained momentum from there. If it had been any other type of ground, Jim would have stopped where he landed, but of course they had enough trouble staying upright when they were simply walking slowly. Spock could only imagine how Jim had been able to stop. This was an example of the laws of nature at their cruelest and most unforgiving.

Spock's worry ended up being so enormous he felt as though he'd need a month's worth of vacation time once they were back on the Enterprise. He'd spend all of it with Jim, playing chess and listening to Jim make bad jokes about inappropriate topics, and at the end of it they'd both be warm and he'd be sure Jim was safe. Then he'd make sure Jim stayed far away from ice planets for the rest of their lives.

After twenty-eight minutes of flat-out running, using the slippery ground to help him gain speed but slowing down when he thought he might get too out of control, Spock noticed Jim on the horizon. Jim was wobbling unsteadily and seemed to be stumbling as opposed to walking. Surprisingly, the sight of Jim did little to relieve Spock's tension, and he increased his pace until he was only just under fifty feet away from Jim. Then he slowed down, allowing his momentum to carry him until he stopped. It wouldn't do anyone any good for Spock to topple Jim to the ground in his condition.

"Where are you injured?" Spock asked, immediately scanning Jim for any obvious signs of discomfort. Unfortunately, he found far too many with one simple glance and Jim's attempt at stuttering out an answer was only going to waste time. Jim gestured with a shaky hand to the ice, then brought his other hand down hard on top of his already outstretched hand. Spock couldn't determine exactly what the gesture was meant to indicate, but based on the frozen water covering Jim's clothes and his discolored skin, Spock could only assume Jim had somehow broken through the ice which covered one of the small lakes they had crossed over and fallen into it.

"C-c-c-c-c," Jim started, but Spock saw how he was wobbling and obviously unable to function normally. There was no sense wasting any more time here, and Jim clearly wasn't in any position to argue, so Spock quickly wrapped one arm around Jim's back, the other under his knees, and lifted him up off the ground.

Jim's eyes widened and he started trying to speak, but Spock interrupted, "Do not argue." Jim blinked at him and then Spock turned around and began walking the way he had come, back towards the cave.

Carrying Jim was not really a problem. At first Jim struggled against Spock's hold, pushing on his arms in an attempt to force Spock to let him walk on his own. Of course Spock ignored that request without even a word of explanation—Jim was in no position to make demands and seemed to be suffering from mild hypothermia. The only real issue was getting Jim back to the cave and waiting to be rescued there. Spock had been concerned that the added weight might make crossing the ice more difficult, but of course he was strong enough that carrying another person made little difference to his overall balance and agility. If Jim had been heavier it might have caused some concern, but as it was Spock found no reason not to return to running after a full minute of testing the ground.

Spock concentrated on running, knowing his speed would have a direct influence on how Jim's recovery went. He had not brought a blanket with him because he had assumed Jim would be in about the same physical condition as before, although in hindsight the extra blanket would have been very useful. Still, if the situation turned even worse they might need the warmth later. It was a difficult decision to make, and it was made worse from knowing that the Enterprise was having troubles of its own. With Jim temporarily out of commission, more or less, it would be Spock's decision how to proceed from this point on.

"Sp-sp-spock," Jim said after almost ten minutes had passed. Spock noticed his shivering was slowing and a bit of warmth was returning to his body. It still wasn't nearly enough, but it was a start.

"Yes, sir?" Spock asked, mentally calculating how much longer it would take them to reach the relative safety of the cave.

"P-put m-m-me d-down," Jim said. He moved uncomfortably in Spock's arms, twisting around fruitlessly.

"You are suffering from severe exposure to the cold," Spock said. "I recommend you relax until we are able to beam back aboard the Enterprise."

"N-no," Jim protested. He lifted a hand and pushed at Spock's shoulder. "L-let m-me g-g-go."

"I cannot," Spock replied. Jim was acting very strangely. Spock worried that he had become somewhat delusional in the cold. There was no real reason why Jim would be so adamant on getting in the way of his own treatment. Maybe explaining the situation to him would make things clear? "Allowing you to walk would be illogical. It is much faster for me to carry you to the cave than for you to walk there. I apologize for any perceived inconvenience or discomfort this may cause you. However the speed of your recovery will lengthen in accordance with the length of time you spend in this frigid temperature."

"Th-that's an ord-der," Jim said.

Spock didn't even slow down. "I will report to the brig once we return to the ship."

"Y-y-your l-leg," Jim said, pointing to it. "It's bl-bleed-ding."

Spock looked down, surprised he had forgotten. A long gash ran along the outside of his right leg from just under his knee to an inch above his ankle. The wound was clearly visible through his torn pants, and blood was steadily seeping through the material. The stress of running didn't help the healing process, but cuts were healed far more easily than some of the possible consequences of hypothermia were. "Yes. I will tend to it later."

It made sense now why Jim had requested to be released, but Spock wasn't going to just allow his condition to get even worse. The fact they were both injured meant basically nothing to him. After all, Vulcans were able to distance themselves from their physical bodies when they needed to. Even they couldn't, Jim was much worse off. His concern for Spock's leg, while appreciated, was so misplaced right now that Spock could only shake his head at the absurdity of it all.

Within another seven minutes, the cave finally came into view on the horizon. It was a welcome sight. Once Jim had pointed out his injury, Spock felt the cut in his leg much more clearly. Once he could sit down and concentrate he'd be able to control the pain, but currently it was a steady throb that gave him a nasty jolt every time that foot hit the ground.

Another minute had them at the entrance, and Spock went inside without pausing. Inside the cave it was still cold, but the wind wasn't hitting them anymore and they weren't slipping on ice. It would have been better if the temperature inside the cave was warmer because at least then they wouldn't be in danger of freezing to death, but Spock was willing to take whatever small mercy fell their way. Chekov and Sulu were still sitting together, huddled under one blanket, and as soon as Spock ran in they looked up.

"Captain?" Chekov asked, frowning. "What happened?"

"Captain Kirk is injured," Spock replied, stopping next to Sulu and dropping to his knees. "Open the blanket." Sulu and Chekov moved closer and rearranged themselves briefly to allow the single blanket to wrap around all four of them.

"We have a second blanket," Chekov stated.

Spock raised an eyebrow at the unnecessary reminder. "We may well need that if it takes Mr. Scott longer than expected to fix the transporter."

"We've already used over an hour on this one," Sulu said. "It's better that we're careful."

Chekov glanced at Jim. "It might be better to give him one anyway?"

"There is no need," Spock replied. "The heat is sufficient. Captain Kirk should be under Doctor McCoy's care, but for now this is all we can offer him."

"I c-can h-hear you," Jim said, frowning. His teeth were chattering less than they had been, and Spock could already feel warmth flowing through his body. Jim moved to sit away from Spock, but their close confines made that move an incredibly unwise one. Jim ended up with one hand against Chekov's shoulder and a knee in Sulu's lap.

"Ow," Sulu said, wincing. "Captain, maybe you should just… sit there?"

"Th-there's n-no room," Jim said.

"The blanket's made for things like this," Chekov said. "There's room."

Jim was acting odd. He had never shown a problem being close to his crew before, and now was really not the time to develop the proper feelings of distance and authority that some people might argue he should have had all along. Spock could analyze his behavior later. Right now he only moved to sit more comfortably, arranging his legs around Jim. Spock knew his body heat would help Jim recover, so he leaned Jim against his chest, despite Jim's slight struggle. Jim's back felt cold against his body. It startled Spock, even though he expected it. "I want you to stay as close to me as you can," Spock instructed, fear making his heart rate speed up. If Jim had stayed under for too long, there could be serious damage, even considering the warmth he was receiving now. He needed to see McCoy as soon as possible.

Jim laughed, high-pitched and half-delirious. "You t-talked m-me into-to it."

Chekov smiled a little and Sulu sighed. Jim leaned back into Spock, tilting his head away so that it rested on Spock's shoulder. Spock was focused solely on how cold Jim felt. He hadn't made a habit of touching Jim, even though Jim was always reaching out to make physical contact with him. Jim seemed to have a habit of touching people he cared about. Spock understood that was a very human trait, one that Vulcans were thankfully spared. Touching another being was considered an intimate act by most Vulcans—mainly due to their telepathy. Humans were unaware of this, yet still most people didn't touch Spock. Jim was the only one who went out of his way to consistently do so, and now Spock was reminded of how warm Jim's hand usually felt—at least compared to the freezing plane of his back, neck, and shoulders. Jim's head was a weight on his shoulder, and Spock realized part of the cold and the weight was the clothes Jim had on. They were covered in icicles and most likely would thaw out to be drenched as Jim's body temperature rose. It wasn't an ideal situation. He needed dry clothes, but they had none to give him.

"I would prefer for you to be out of those clothes," Spock said.

Several seconds passed.

"Oh G-god," Jim said. "I'm d-dead. I'm d-dead and I'm hallu-lucinati-ting."

Chekov laughed and Sulu rolled his eyes. Spock raised an eyebrow, unsure exactly what they were thinking but knowing it must be some human thing he hadn't yet encountered. There would be time to decipher it later.

"Your clothes are covered in ice," Spock continued. "Dry clothes would be preferable."

"Oka-kay," Jim said. A shiver ran through his body and Spock, without thinking, wrapped his arms around Jim—one circling his shoulders and the other covering his waist. Jim stiffened briefly but then relaxed again. Spock hoped he'd be able to stay that way and not worry about anything until they were home. He had no desire to have to force Jim to stay put the entire time they were stuck there. Moving around might be a good idea sometime after he was warmer, but right now Spock was worried Jim had suffered some unknown physical damage in the water. Movement would most likely cause any injury to get even worse.

A few minutes of silence passed. Spock had never been this close to other people before, and certainly not three of them at the same time. Jim was closer than anyone had ever been—even Uhura had never had so much body contact at once. There were clothes separating them, but Spock could still feel Jim through the layers of clothing, an ice cold presence that reminded him how much they needed to return to the Enterprise. Sulu and Chekov were on either side of him, their folded legs and arms brushing against his own whenever any of them moved. It was uncomfortable, but somehow not awkward. Spock was able to maintain his mental barriers so that he didn't accidentally learn anything from their minds—which would be an invasion of their privacy. He couldn't block out their emotions, though. Touch telepathy had its flaws, and blocking emotions was only possible for the Vulcans who trained most diligently in that one specialty. Spock had focused his own skill on the sciences, which earned him high regard in both his cultures but did little to prepare him for the confusion of connecting with three different emotional reactions simultaneously. Usually he had physical contact with a maximum of one person at a time, and then only very briefly, so this had never before been a problem for him. He was finding it disconcerting, to say the least.

Sulu was worried, but not overly so. Confidence and trust emanated from him, which led Spock to believe that Sulu was fairly sure they would be rescued before any other disaster occurred. Chekov, on the other hand, was worried and resigned and miserable but also, oddly, almost happy or excited. Clearly, the man was suffering from the over-emotional displays most humans felt compelled to display, but he was able to control that in a dire situation. Spock could give him credit for that, even though the whirlwind of emotions was giving him a migraine. Jim's emotions were the strongest due to the amount of physical contact they had, but Spock was at a loss to explain them. There was a sense of urgency mixed with hope and despair, which made sense given the current situations both aboard their ship and in the cave. Yet there was also this deeper undercurrent of something Spock couldn't quite place, that seemed too mixed up in a huge tangle of confusion and nervousness to even try to make sense of. Spock could only assume Jim had stayed underwater too long and his mind wasn't as astute as it usually was. After all, if Jim felt like this normally, he would barely be able to function. There were too many conflicting emotions warring for dominance within him. Spock understood what that was like—he felt like he was at war with himself every day. But Jim had never given off that impression before. If it wasn't illness or injury, then the only conclusion would be that was his usual state, and Spock didn't want to even start thinking that way. The idea of Jim suffering through anything similar to the constant irritation, hopelessness, embarrassment, and resolution that Spock couldn't admit to feeling caused Spock to feel sick and heavy. Jim presented himself as being happy and carefree. Spock knew that was only a façade, but how much of it was real and how much faked? More importantly, how could Spock even bring up such a topic in conversation? _While you were unconscious I accidentally invaded your mind, read your emotions, and noticed you were confused, and although it might be due to the trauma of falling into freezing cold water and the delusional state of mind that could cause in any living being, I was wondering if you had any long-standing emotional problems you would like to confide to me, as opposed to Doctor McCoy, your closest friend who you have known for years, who also happens to be the obvious choice for any conversation about emotions, especially when the other option is a notoriously unemotional half-Vulcan First Officer who you have only known for two and a half months?_ Even in his head it sounded like he was going to get punched in the face.

"Maybe we should do something?" Chekov asked.

His question brought Spock out of his thoughts, and he realized eleven minutes and thirty-one seconds had passed. It wasn't nearly enough time. Contacting the ship too often would only mean they would have to wait even longer for repairs to be made. It was best to leave the crew alone to allow them to work. Spock had no other ideas about what Chekov could mean, though, and before Spock could reply, Sulu voiced a similar thought.

"Like what?" Sulu replied. "You want to contact the ship again?"

Chekov paused. "Well, that's a good idea too."

"What were you thinking?" Sulu asked.

"I don't know. Maybe a game or something to keep us occupied?" Chekov shrugged.

There was no real point in playing a game, or doing anything else, to keep busy. Spock knew that, but he wasn't entirely against the idea anyway. Jim was struggling to stay awake. Anything to keep him aware would be a good idea at this point. Besides, Spock should focus on something other than the emotions that the others were projecting.

"Something to pass the time would be appreciated," Spock said.

"Do you know a good game we could play like this?" Sulu asked, looking at Chekov skeptically.

Chekov thought for a moment before snapping his fingers. "Theoretically Possible." Spock had little knowledge of human games, but Sulu's reaction made it clear that he had never heard of it either. "Oh, come on," Chekov continued, frowning. "It was popular at the Academy."

"Is it a drinking game?" Sulu asked, dubiously. "I hate drinking games."

"No, it's not," Chekov stated. "It's a game where each person says something that is theoretically possible, and everyone builds on it, going around and around until someone says something that is either so ridiculous that a new round has to be called or that is obviously impossible." He paused. "Or until someone forgets what was said before or gets it wrong."

"I do not grasp the idea behind this game," Spock said. "Everything is theoretically possible."

"D-don't b-be like tha-that," Jim said. Spock felt Jim's head move as he spoke, turning against his own shoulder. It was an odd sensation. "It's f-fun. Let's play."

"Who begins this game?" Spock asked.

"I'll start," Chekov said. "Since I brought it up." He waited a beat and then titled his head to the side. "Okay. Okay. It is theoretically possible that a spaceship could land right outside our cave."

Sulu sighed. "It's theoretically possible that a Klingon spaceship could land right outside our cave." Sulu looked at Jim. "Why don't you go next, Captain?"

"Yeah," Jim said. He pursed his lips and then said, "It's the-theoreti-tically p-possible that a Kli-klingon spa-spaceship pilote-ted by Scotty c-could land ri-right outside our c-cave."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Scott is not a pilot."

"That's n-not the p-point, Spock," Jim said. "Just s-say somethi-thing."

Spock thought for an addition that would make some kind of sense. "It is theoretically possible, although statistically highly improbable, that a Klingon warship piloted by Mr. Scott and manned by a crew of hand-picked specialists from the Enterprise could land on the surface of this planet directly outside of our cave."

Jim laughed while Sulu shook his head. Chekov blinked. "Okay. It's theoretically possible that a Klingon warship piloted by Scotty and run by a hand-picked crew of specialists from the Enterprise could land right outside our cave, but be too heavy and fall through the ice."

Sulu thought for a minute. "It is theoretically possible that a Klingon warship piloted by Scotty with a crew of hand-picked specialists from the Enterprise could land outside our cave, be too heavy and fall through the ice, and then sink to the bottom and be stuck there."

Jim rubbed his hands together. Spock noticed he was getting warmer. Maybe in another ten minutes he'd be back to his normal body temperature. "It's th-theoretically possible th-that a Klingon warsh-ship piloted b-by Scotty and m-manned by hand-pi-picked specialists fr-from the Enterpr-prise could l-land outside the c-cave, be t-too heavy, fall thro-through the ice, s-sink to the b-bottom, g-get stuck there, and h-have a mechan-chanical malfunction th-that forced everyone t-to evac-vacuate."

Spock frowned. "The theoretical possibility of this incident occurring is incredibly slim. Perhaps infinitesimal would be a more appropriate description." Sulu and Chekov looked at him. Jim elbowed him in the side. "Fine," Spock said, shoulders slumping. "It is minutely theoretically possible that a Klingon warship piloted by Mr. Scott and manned by a crew of hand-picked specialists from the Enterprise could land next to this cave on the surface of this planet, fall through the ice because it would obviously be too heavy to be supported, sink to the bottom of the assumed body of water the warship has fallen into, become unable to move, have an unspecific mechanical malfunction which forces all personnel to evacuate the ship, thus causing the personnel to use all of the existing shuttlecrafts to escape."

The game continued for longer than Spock would have liked it to. He always enjoyed thinking in theoretical terms, yet this game was obviously intended for entertainment, as most games were, and not for any type of serious consideration of possible theoretical situations they could find themselves in. Usually he would have found an excuse to be somewhere else, but due to the extenuating circumstances he decided it would be best to just play along. Besides, Jim seemed to be enjoying it. His responses were getting faster the more he played, and his speech was slowly becoming clearer. After fifteen minutes, Jim's body temperature was only a few degrees lower than it normally was. There were no obvious lingering side effects, but Spock wasn't willing to take any chances.

After a somewhat grueling twenty-eight minutes, the game ended when Sulu said, "Wait a minute. Just so we're clear. We're saying it's theoretically possible that a neon pink Klingon warship named Spock the Second piloted by Scotty, who's wearing a tuxedo with a tiara and a blinking sign that says 'Needs Repairs', and manned by a crew of deaf-mute communications specialists hand-picked by Pike from the other universe, who came from the Enterprise via transdimensional beaming, could land on the planet's surface using old-fashioned wheels and a map to direct them to right outside of our cave, which we've dubbed 'Cavealicious'—" Sulu paused to breathe and shake his head at Jim, who grinned and cracked up like he had every time he had gotten them to say cavealicious for the past nineteen minutes. "—And have now lived in for two hundred and twelve years, which we've decorated with couches and nasty-teeth-monster fur rugs and pleasant heated stones to placate Spock when he's annoyed with us, and then the ice can't support Spock the Second's weight so it crashes through it, destroying our front yard and we get angry at the deaf-mute communications officers but it doesn't matter because they can't hear us anyway, not only because they're deaf but also because they're in the ship and either one would be reason enough but both are fine together too, and the ship sinks to the bottom of the sea we're magically floating on top of because ice planets are evil and magic is the only thing that would make them worthwhile, and then the ship gets stuck because it's a Klingon ship and we don't like the Klingons so it can break, and the mechanical malfunction is caused by all the water flowing suddenly through the engines in the ship, which causes the electrical wiring to short-circuit some of the ship's main systems, which normally wouldn't be a problem because Scotty's there to fix it but not only is he already doing something else important by flying the ship but he's also clearly in need of repairs as the sign says, so there's nobody there to fix it and the deaf-mute communications officers are unable to coordinate their evacuation efforts in time so half of them drown and half of who's left get electrocuted and half of who's left after that have random heart attacks and drop dead in a medical mystery that has Bones confused because he's been there the whole time, but instead of being able to figure out exactly what it is, he has to escape with the remaining crew which is annoying because they can't hear him shouting at them about being careful not to have heart attacks on his watch, so he leaves to go find an empty shuttlecraft but there are no empty shuttlecrafts because they're obviously all being used so instead he finds one shuttlecraft that is neon pink like Spock the Second and has extra room in it for him, but he ends up deciding to swim his way to the top because that's more fun, so he leaves the extra room alone even though it's logically impossible that a medical doctor would attempt to swim from the bottom of a frigid ocean but he does it anyway because he can, and Bones wears his special super-warm swimsuit that is guaranteed to get him out alive, so he dives out of a hole in the ship that he happens to be passing by and swims up, banging into two shuttlecraft, an octopus, the nasty-tooth-monster, and his own body along the way, and before he makes it to the surface all the shuttlecraft get there, including the neon pink one, so he thinks he was stupid to miss them but it doesn't matter because it's too late now, and when the shuttlecraft reach the surface we yell at the deaf-mute specialists some more about destroying our front yard but they look awful and we feel bad so we offer them to have a seat on the nice ice, and they do so, and then we talk for several hours while Bones swims his way up, and when he finally gets to the surface he gasps for breath, flips his hair back like a stereotypical action movie hero, and shouts, 'I'm a doctor, not a deep-sea diver slash a witty phrase slash Klingon warship repairman slash stereotypical action movie hero!'" Sulu exhaled slowly.

"You didn't add anything," Jim accused, narrowing his eyes.

"Well, I don't know, I think we've got to call it," Sulu said. "It's gotten to be really… well, not theoretically possible."

"Oh, come on," Jim said. "We just got to the good part!"

"This situation has been highly improbable since we began," Spock stated.

"We could start a new one," Chekov suggested. "It's getting harder to remember the order of everything."

"You may do as you please," Spock said. "However, I will no longer be participating in this exercise of lunacy."

"Hey," Jim said, mockingly offended. "Don't call us lunatics."

"All right, let's do another," Sulu said. "I'll start this one."

Spock sighed and closed his eyes, wishing there was another way to spend the time. But they were all having fun, so he allowed himself to simply sit there and meditate. He had never attempted any form of meditation in such close quarters with other people before, but he certainly couldn't be expected to do much else. Jim, although warmer, was still pressed against his chest and shoulder. Spock hadn't removed his arms from their original position and Jim had made no indication that he would rather move. In case Jim was injured but they weren't able to tell, Spock's extra body heat might make a difference. He wouldn't be sure until they were rescued, but in the meantime he was willing to do what he could to keep Jim comfortable, safe, and happy.

The meditation worked, which Spock knew only because two hours passed with him taking little notice of them. Jim, Sulu, and Chekov continued their game and left him relatively alone, although Jim occasionally shifted against Spock, which caused him a great deal of discomfort. Jim wriggling against him was highly unnerving, mainly because it was incredibly comfortable and Jim seemed to fit fairly well there. His meditation proved to be useful as both a distraction and relaxation technique. What got him out of that state was not Jim's movement, but rather a muffled call on the communicator.

Chekov stopped in the middle of his description of whatever it was they were inventing. Jim immediately reached down, fingers brushing over Spock's thigh before reaching the communicator on the floor next to them. He lifted it up and looked around, asking, "Did you guys hear that, too?"

Sulu nodded and the communicator went off again. "Captain Kirk, this is Uhura. Do you copy?"

"Uhura, this is Kirk," Jim said, quickly. "What's going on?"

"I'm transferring you to Scotty," Uhura said. "One second."

Jim waited few seconds until Scotty said, "Captain, are you there?"

"Scotty, Jim. What's up?" He was speaking faster than normal, and Spock could only assume that was from excitement over the prospect of actually leaving.

"Good news, bad news," Scotty said.

"Bad," Jim replied.

"We can only beam aboard one person every four hours right now," Scotty said.

Jim groaned. "What? Why?"

"It's to do with the power that the transporter requires to run properly," Scotty explained. "Look, all I'm saying is, if we don't have enough power, we're going to leave parts of people behind."

"But why once every four hours?" Jim asked. "What's the problem?"

"The damn rocks," Scotty said. "They're sucking power out of everything, and we can't risk beaming them down right now because we don't know what'll happen. We know for sure we can store up enough energy to get one person aboard every four hours. We're working on it, and we might be able to do better than that, but that's it for now."

Jim sighed. "All right, fine. What's the good news?"

"We can get one person back right now," Scotty said. "Just tell me who and have him stand outside the cave. We've got you on the sensors already."

"Okay." Jim paused. "It's Chekov."

Spock, Sulu, and Chekov all looked at Jim with varying levels of surprise. Spock didn't know what Jim was trying to do, but he wasn't having any of it. Jim was injured. He needed to go back first.

"Captain," Spock said. "You should return first."

Jim raised a hand to silence him. "Take your gear, but leave anything warm. That's an order."

"Yes, sir," Chekov said. He gathered some of the equipment he had brought with him and saluted Jim and Spock before leaving to stand outside the cave.

"Jim, I must protest. It should be you who—"

"Beam him up, Scotty," Jim said, interrupting Spock. Chekov disappeared moments later. "Let me know when he's back safely."

"A few more seconds," Scotty replied. Jim exhaled slowly. "All right, he's here. In one piece. No applause necessary."

"Start saving up more energy," Jim said. "And how's that door situation coming?"

"We've been able to pry open a few of the doors that were necessary." Scotty sighed. "But I'd say ninety percent of the crew is still stuck wherever they were before."

"And Bones?" Jim asked. "You guys find him yet?"

"Well, I heard that someone heard banging from the lift, and we're all assuming that's him," Scotty said. "But powering up the lift is going to take up some of the energy that we're storing, and since he's fine and you guys are freezing to death…"

Jim ran a hand over his eyes. "Okay, yeah. Just keep doing what you're doing. Let us know when the next person can get beamed back."

"Yes, sir."

"Kirk out." Jim closed the communicator and looked at Sulu briefly before turning his head to look at Spock. "I'm going back last. We can argue about it after Sulu's gone, if you like."

"Captain, I believe that is an extremely unwise—" Spock started, but Jim slapped a hand over Spock's mouth.

"If anyone's injured here, it's you. You're lucky I'm letting you be all noble and self-sacrificing at all." Jim let his hand drop. "Sulu, then you, then me. We've got, what? Maybe an hour left on this blanket? At least we've got a second one."

Spock had plenty of issues with the math involved there, but also with the obvious problem that whoever was left behind would be alone for four hours in the cold. The next four hours would be divided between one hour on this blanket and three on the next. The four hours after that would be spent with two on the next blanket and two without the extra heat. So the last person remaining would actually have to spend _six_ hours with just their clothes and the normal warmth of the blankets as protection from the weather—two with the second-to-last person and then two alone. Jim was more delusional than Spock had originally thought he was if Jim was even _entertaining_ the idea that Spock would let him stay here alone. Well, they'd have to cross that bridge when they came to it, as the ridiculous human phrase went. It made no sense, logically, because the bridge might be unstable or worn down or even broken from years of use, and then what? It was always better to have alternate routes in mind. When dealing with Jim, though, Spock was starting to understand that, if he ever wanted to get his way, he would need to be incredibly creative. He had four hours to think of how to convince Jim that allowing Spock to stay alone on this ice planet was a better idea than Jim doing it himself. He'd need every second.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [not sleeping](http://not-sleeping.deviantart.com/)
> 
> made a third fanart! [Check it out, people!](http://not-sleeping.deviantart.com/art/Yes-Mr-Spock-131294432) It's of the scene in Part 9 when Jim opens his door to greet Spock, wearing only his boxers. XD


End file.
